A Technological Singularity
by 6thfloormadness
Summary: AU. How did the Borg Collective come to be? What if the Systems Alliance had the Borg as allies during The First Contact War?
1. Chapter 1: Research and Development

**Author's Note: **_I've gotten complaints that this story takes a while to get going, specifically that it takes forever to get to Shanxi so for any new readers that want to get right to that rather than read the build-up of how the Borg came to be, just jump to Chapter 13. I hope you don't do that, you'd be skipping 12 chapters if you did, but I'm giving you the heads up just the same._

****Research and Development****

**Skynet Military Base May 6, 2021 AD**

Dr. Jeffery Borg did not like his fellow man. He found the vast majority of people he was forced to to interact with on a daily basis to be stupid, annoying neanderthals that had barely moved past the knuckle dragging phase of their evolutionary development. This would not have been a problem but to quote Jeff's boss, Sarah Stryker, "I've known people with tourette's syndrome that were better at keeping their mouths' shut than him."

Jeff's ability to alienate almost anyone he came in contact with was the reason he could not get a job in the private sector. People refused to work with him, despite his brilliance and expertise in the field of robotics and neuroscience. Hence, Jeff's current boss was a United States Army Colonel and Jeff was assigned to some underground facility in Alabama of all places.

While the surrounding swampland made leaving the base an thoroughly unpleasant exercise, Jeff had to give the Army credit, this was the last place he would have looked for a military base that did advanced cybernetic experiments, though he did find the name to be in bad taste. And what a base it was, at twenty stories tall (or maybe twenty stories deep would be more accurate) with enough supplies to keep the place sustained for a month, though it received delivers once every other week. The base only housed around one hundred people (almost all of whom were idiots) but the size of the underground bunker still impressed Jeff when he thought about it. The interior was gray, filled with lifeless white and concrete walls with as much personality as the very people who staffed the base. It was as if the military engineers, repulsed by the swampland, wanted to create a haven against the natural world.

Despite the flora outside the base being just as dangerous as the fauna, mosquitoes so big that if they decided to suck your blood they would leave you light-headed, and the god-awful military food, Jeff enjoyed his situation. His quarters were on the same floor as his laboratory so he did not have to walk far, his lab assistant was mute so he didn't have to listen to the idiot's prattling, and Stryker left him alone so long his experiments produced results. The best part of working on a secret military base was that he didn't have to worry about getting heckled by PETA protesters just because he wanted to see what would happen if he stuck a TV antenna into a parrot's brain (turns out Polly started picking up local weather forecasts). He was allowed to do pretty much any experiment he could think up so long as he could justify some way it which it would help the military. He was particularly proud of his ten page request for permission to create remote controlled lab rats. Sure, he had said they could have been used to read documents, carry bombs, and search for survivors under rubble but Jeff had mainly used them to steal the good food that the officers on the base were hoarding.

The idea for his current project had started out when he heard two of the janitors talking about a video game they were playing where they could see what their teammates saw and they were able to efficiently coordinate attacks on the enemy base. Jeff was almost disappointed in how easy it had been to get permission for this project. He hadn't even put in a formal request, Stryker happened to walk by his table in the mess hall while he was writing the idea down on his napkin. After reading over his shoulder (Jeff really hated when people did that) she informed him it was a great idea and he would have double his usual budget to make it work. So here he was, sitting at his computer, attempting to design...something that could link a person's brain to a central computer so that they could receive necessary combat information. The problem wasn't designing the receiving device, he had already thought up four different possible solutions. The problem was the sending device. If the person or computer controlling the information were compromised the entire team would lose their edge and would be no better than ordinary soldiers. He could always just design in a secondary information operator or some kind of fail-safe, but that seemed too easy, too predictable. Normal researchers would take the easy way out, they were moronic simpletons, Dr. Jeffery Borg was not. He would fix this problem in such a way that his dimwitted coworkers would be left in awe...but first he needed to smoke a cigarette.

The quartermaster on base didn't stock tobacco products so there were only two ways to get cigarettes. Jeff could take the hour long trip off base, through the swamp, to the nearest town which would require him to talk to whoever was behind the counter at the general store. Last time he had gone, Jeff had been forced to listen to the pregnant teenager behind the counter complain about how she couldn't figure out who the father was and so had asked him if he thought she could get child support from more than one person. The other option was to pay the ridiculous marked up prices that the delivery truck drivers charged. Most of the drivers would look the other way if a box or two of supplies happened to to missing, provided they were distracted by enough cash, but not always. Sometimes the delivery guy might have morals and wouldn't sell his "excess" inventory. Neither option appealed to Jeff so he saved his cigarettes for when he really needed them. Today was one of those times.

The officer in charge of the base would not allow smoking indoors and, thanks to Jeff's remote controlled rats now under said officer's control, if anyone tried to smoke inside they would get caught. So Jeff had to take the elevator up the surface for his smoke break. It wouldn't have been so bad but the security guard stationed in the elevator always stank. Jeff doubted that today would be the day the guard finally did something about his hygiene, but for the sake of his olfactory system, Jeff had to try.

"So Carson, five years I've been working here, and though I mention it every time I take the elevator, I notice that you haven't figured out the amazing discovery known as soap. I can understand your trepidation with wanting to try out new things, but trust me, soap as been around since the ancient Babylonians, it's a safe, stable technology."

With a deep sigh the solider responded, "You known, Dr. Borg, in the five years you've been riding in my elevator, not once have you gotten my name correct."

"What are you talking about Carter?"

"Nothing, Dr. Borg."

"That's what I thought Carmichael."

As the elevator reached the surface and the doors opened, the guard, in a tone that suggested he regretted every responding to Jeff's conversation, said "Here's your stop Dr. Borg. Enjoy your smoke break."

After taking a literal and deep breath of fresh air, Jeff responded "Thank you, Cartman. Your hygiene may be lacking but your manners are not" and lite up his cigarette before wandering away from the elevator.

Topside, the base was not much too look at. It was designed to resemble a fenced in power station. The six towers hummed with electricity and Jeff could feel the hair on his arms start to stand up from the charge in the air. Some of the less intelligent men on the base liked to find ways to light their smokes by using the charge from the towers. Considering three soldiers had died from that in the five years he had been stationed here, Jeff stuck with using matches to light his cigarettes. That was apparently a sentiment not everyone agreed with. Jeff noticed two soldiers smoking next to one of the towers high fiving each other and looking quite pleased. If this base wasn't next to impossible to find hidden in the middle of swamp he might actually fear for his safety with idiots like these two working the security detail.

Jeff walked to the opposite end of the compound away from Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, puffing on his cigarette. He was attempting to clear his mind and focus on just enjoying his smoke break when he stepped on a rather large anthill. Cursing the outdoors, Alabama, God, ants, and whatever else came to mind, Jeff jumped back shaking his foot frantically before any ants started biting. Luckily, no ants remained attached after Jeff's freak out. He was about to go back to enjoying his smoke when the ants caught his eye. Each individual ant ran about, working to reconstruct their hill. They worked as a team, yet no one was giving them orders. Sure, there was a queen, but she didn't tell each ant what it should do, they just knew. And suddenly Jeff had his solution. Rather than have a central computer/user to send out the data, the network would be decentralized between everyone who was implanted. That way there was no one weak point that could cripple the whole operation. Now that he thought about it, why limit the network to sharing strictly audio and visual data? If he designed it properly, anything could be shared. Squads could share knowledge, if one member of the team was a bomb expert, suddenly they all become bomb experts! If the medic got injured, someone else could patch him up! Jeff's mind started going through even more possibilities. If he got the implant himself, suddenly everyone would gain his intelligence. A team of scientists with that amount of know-how could create some truly amazing wonders. With a spring in his step, Jeff finished his cigarette and returned to the elevator. He had a lot of work to do.

**Skynet Military Base July 25, 2021 AD**

Jeff was in a good mood. He had designed the hardware and software for his neural transceivers in just under a month. It had taken another month to get everything constructed and work out the bugs in the programming, but now he had a series of mice implanted with the devices. For his first experiment, Jeff had isolated one of the mice and taught it that climbing through a series of tubes and pulling on a string at the top would cause food to appear (OK, Jeff made his lab assistant teach the mouse that). Then they put the other mice in the tubes and every single mouse knew how to navigate the tubes and pull on the string to get food despite never physically interacting with the trained mouse. Experiment after experiment showed the same results: what one mouse learned, every other mouse knew.

Now Jeff needed a way to do the experiment on a larger scale. He knew his superiors would say it was still too early to safely test the neural transceivers on humans. The mice were all being studied for any possible health effects that his implants might cause and that would take at a least a year so he needed something to occupy his time. Jeff was currently leaning towards monkeys because...well because he wanted to operate on one honestly. Monkeys were basically just little hairy people anyway, had about the same intelligence level as some of the soldiers stationed on this base anyway. He read about people teaching gorillas sign language. That would be a much better test for the implants than trying to get through a maze.

**Skynet Military Base April 23, 2023 AD**

Jeff never did get permission to bring monkeys onto the base. He was forced to stick with more traditional animals, but a man of his genius found ways to make it work. He had implanted a neural transceiver in a trained bomb sniffing dog and a six month old puppy. The puppy was then tested on bomb detection and actually did better than the trained dog. This showed that knowledge learned prior to the implantation was still able to be shared. The experiments with distance between the subjects were not as successful. Once one of the dogs had learned something it would immediately tell all the other dogs on the network, but the other dogs could only learn about it as quickly as the message traveled. If the dogs were in the same building it wasn't a problem, if they were miles apart there would be a slight delay. Those split seconds could be crucial on a battlefield. The delay would also be really annoying if a person wanted to link to a person on the other side of the planet. Jeff had to think long term after all. This technology could change the world once it was perfected.

At the moment Jeff had to focus on the now, namely implanting the neural transceivers into his human test subjects. He had given them each simple numerical designations: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, and Seven (Jeff did not want to waste valuable brain power memorizing names). Jeff was really looking forward to the detailed notes the seven subjects could provide. There was only so much one could learn from watching dogs after all. With human test subjects that spoke and wrote English, testing would become much easier. The neural transceivers were only in their fifth iteration, Jeff would be able to make some rapid hardware and software improvements once these came online and he observed the subjects behavior. He just hoped he wouldn't accidentally lobotomize one of the subjects while he implanted the transceivers; he was so excited that his hands were experiencing slight tremors while he operated on One. Two through Seven were currently lounging somewhere around the base. Cutting into human brain without causing any damage was not easy on the best of days, because of his shaking Jeff had to go even slower than he had originally planned. Jeff had hoped to do two operations a day but at the current rate he would be lucky to finish this one in under six hours. That meant he would have to wait a full week before he could see how humans reacted to his invention. Worry about the wait later; right now focus on not screwing up.

**Skynet Military Base May 23, 2023 AD**

Exactly one month had passed since Jeff had implanted the neural transceivers in his seven test subjects and a lot of things had happened. While the seven subjects had originally all had startling different personalities (Five was incredibly vulgar, while Two was a born-again Christian) they had homogenized over the past month. They now all shared the same basic personalty traits. Talking with one of them felt no different from talking with any of the other ones. Their interests and hobbies had all combined as well. Where as One had been the athletic, sporty type, he was now content to read books in his free time if he was told there were no physical activities that he was currently allowed to engage in. Just like the dogs and mice, all seven subject were able to share knowledge. Originally, Three was the only one that spoke Spanish and One knew some Latin, now all seven were trilingual.

Jeff couldn't be happier with the successful exchanging of knowledge, but the changing of personality concerned him. Not because he was concerned about his subjects, he hadn't liked them to begin with, but because the military might pull the plug on this project if permanent mental change was one of the side effects. Oddly enough, when Jeff had pointed out to Five how he almost completely ceased cursing, Five hadn't been bothered by it. Five had simply explained that Two didn't like it so he didn't do it anymore. When Jeff had asked why Five cared what Two thought, Five had asked why Jeff didn't. That had ended the conversation rather abruptly. Jeff was supposed to create a way for soldiers to better function on the battlefield (and eventually improve humanity maybe, whatever got his name to the masses) and he was instead stuck with a knitting circle that talked about their feelings. Hopefully, the seven subjects would still perform their duties when it came to battle simulations later in the week.

**Skynet Military Base May 29, 2023 AD**

Jeff was reviewing the video footage of his test subjects running through the combat exercises. All seven performed better than he had hoped. They knew exactly what each member of the team was doing and what still needed to be done. His typed report along with the video files had already been sent to Stryker, and based off of what his computer was showing him, Jeff was confident she would want him to continue his work. Still, the blending of the subjects' personalities made him pause the footage to think. It shouldn't have happened. How was it even possible?

Prior to getting implanted, Five had not only been vulgar but had also been arrogant, self-centered, and a bully. Two had been the stereotypical meek, turn-the-other-cheek, born-again Christian. They should not have gotten along, yet they did. Being able to hear another person's thoughts should allow for instance communication and rapid sharing of knowledge, it shouldn't alter the basis of who a person was. Was this just a software error? Had he screwed up when writing the code? Could it have been a hardware problem? Did the manufacturers get sloppy when they were building some of the parts? There were too many variables.

Jeff was at a complete loss as to what he should do. His seven subjects were getting along better than a 1950's sitcom family yet none of them had met each other before they were chosen for this experiment. If the subjects had been told before the experiment began that there personalities would change, would they have still volunteered? What would happen if they ever got the neural transceivers removed? Would their personalities change back or would they remain as they were now? And most importantly of all, Jeff realized, why was he thinking about all this crap? All he cared about was whether or not he got to stay on the project. So far the neural transceivers were functioning fine, the personality change was just a weird side effect that did not matter in the long run. They did what they were designed to do and that should be good enough for the military.

Eventually the neural transceivers would be released to the public and once people realized how much they could change the world, Jeff would be set for life. He would go down in history with the likes of Einstein, Edison, and Newton. Let the philosophers debate the ethics of trans-humanism and free will, Jeff just wanted the adoration of the unwashed masses. Actually, now that he thought about, Jeff decided he preferred if they were washed masses. Five years of being stuck in the elevator with Carnegie really brought home the importance of cleanliness. So long as the personality changes weren't a big enough problem that the military canceled the project, he would be good. He was interrupted from his musings by a knock on his office door. The fact that the door opened before he gave the knocker permission to enter meant it could only be one person, his boss, Colonel Sarah Stryker.

Before Jeff got the chance to chastise her for, once again, entering his office without permission she excitedly started talking. "Jeff, I just saw the video you sent! Do you mean to tell me that your devices can turn seven men that didn't know each other a month ago into a highly trained commando team?"

With a sigh of annoyance, Jeff responded "No Sarah, as I explained in my report, which I included in the email of the video, the neural transceivers distribute knowledge. Since Three had received training as an Army Ranger, the other six gained that knowledge. If all seven had been basic soldiers, they would have performed better than a normal team, but not as good as they did."

"Look, spare me the lecture of the technical mumbo-jumbo. Is this repeatable? Can we do it again?"

"I can understand how you would need to repeat your questions when dealing with the troglodytes that work for you, but remember that you are talking to someone with a brain that Socrates and Aristotle would be envious of" Jeff said. "But to answer your question, provided a sufficiently knowledgeable person is chosen for the new team, yes. In fact, if the right people were picked, the new team could even be better than this one."

Sarah was stunned at the news. "Wow...this is big Jeff, like invention of the atomic bomb big. You've changed the way wars are fought. Instant communication between soldiers, instant training...just...wow."

"I know the ramifications of my invention comes as a shock to a mid-level army grunt like yourself, but I'm actually aware of the possibilities of my neural transceivers. If you had bothered to read my report instead of just watching the video you would know that I outlined several different ways that the military could make use of the transceivers. Come to think of it, seeing as how you approved this project before I even submitted a formal request for funding, you should be impressed I didn't just use the money to buy subscriptions to every porn site on the Internet."

One reason Jeff was able to work for Sarah for five years without getting his teeth knocked out was that she was a pretty laid back person. Whenever Jeff got too insulting she would simply ignore him until he calmed down and acted civilized. Usually this took a conscious effort on her part, this time was an exception. The news Jeff had just given her was so mind blowing she had to take a moment to just sit and think. She was only peripherally aware as Jeff went on about how a genius like him should not be shackled to a boss that did not even read the reporters he took time to write. Sure, she had given him permission to work on the project with extra funding, but that was just because she didn't want to come in under-budget at her performance review of the research projects she was heading. She hadn't expected Jeff to actually succeed, he was smart, but she hadn't thought he was this smart.

After almost five minutes (during which Jeff never noticed that she failed to respond to his complaints) Sarah interrupted his rant. "So you can continue making, and making improvements on, these brain transmitter thingies?"

"Brain...transmitter...thingies? Jeff asked in disbelief. "Well, it's nice to know a project that could change the course of human societal development is under the watchful eye of someone with a second grader's vocabulary. Another successful product of American public schooling, you are. But yes, I can. Oh, and by the way, though I already know the answer I'll ask the question anyway, did you read in the report where I detailed the personality changes among the seven subjects?"

That caught Sarah's attention. "No, I didn't. What sort of changes are we talking about? Violent? Anti-social? Anything dangerous?"

"No, nothing so cliched." Jeff said with a chuckle. "This isn't a Hollywood movie. All the subjects showed a marked increase in actions to maintain group cohesion and expressed supportive dialogue to one another. There was also a sharp decrease in competitive showmanship and emotionally damaging verbal jabs."

It took Sarah a few seconds to figure out what Jeff had just said. "So...they decided to work together and not be dicks to each other is what you're saying."

"Did I stutter?"

"Right. Well, I don't see that as a bad thing so get back to work. Next week, some generals are coming by to check on the research the base has been doing and your project needs to be perfect by then."

As Sarah left, Jeff returned to watching the footage of his subjects in action. He knew worrying about the personality changes had been stupid, and now his boss said it didn't matter. It's nice to have confirmation from a superior that you were right all along.

**Skynet Military Base April 4, 2023 AD**

There really wasn't a whole lot Jeff could have done in a week to dramatically increase the abilities of his subjects so he had settled for checking the software for bugs. Not exactly the stuff of great stories, but it was necessary. While Jeff spent the week in his office staring at code, his seven subjects had been training. They knew the importance of the generals' visit. They needed to impress, and could only do that if they were in perfect physical and mental condition.

One night when Jeff had been working late, all seven subjects had stopped by his office. They told Jeff they wanted to thank him for creating the neural transceivers. That had caused him to stop what he was doing on his computer so he could properly pay attention to what they were saying. Of all the things he had expected them to want to talk to him about, giving thanks was not one of them. Sure, Jeff enjoyed being worshiped as the God among men that he was, but gratitude was not one of the usual emotions people expressed towards him.

"You want to thank me for creating the neural transceivers? Why?" Jeff asked.

"Because," One answered "without them we would not be who we now are."

"So you admit that you are not the same people as before?"

"Of course we're not the same people. Now that the seven of use are each a part of a bigger whole. Our minds are connected. Seven's thoughts might as well be my thoughts." Three said.

"And you guys consider that a good thing?"

"We know and understand each other in a way no one before us ever has. Why wouldn't it be a good thing?" Two asked with genuine puzzlement in his voice.

"Well...it means you have no privacy, no alone time."

Seven laughed at Jeff's comment and said, "We don't want any between each other. Privacy is so...archaic."

"Archaic? In private, people can be themselves and they won't be judged. It's a vital part of everyone's lives." Jeff quite liked his privacy. Just because he wanted the world to recognize him as the smartest man alive didn't mean he wanted every moment of his life to end up in the news. Jeff hoped that his Star Wars fanfic never saw the light of day, that particular hobby didn't need to end up in the history books.

"At one point and time, so was slavery." Four responded quite matter-of-factly.

Jeff had no clue how to respond to that. Comparing slavery and privacy...how does one even begin to come up with a counter-argument to that? Jeff decided to ignore it and just redirect the conversation instead. "You know, I never intended for this to happen. The transceivers were only supposed to exchange knowledge."

"Dr. Borg, you're a scientist. You know that it is results, not intent, that matters. Much like an unplanned child still loves its parents, we are grateful for what you have done even if you did not mean for it to happen." Six said.

"I suppose you have a point. So, you've thanked me, now what?" Jeff was now desperate to change the conversation. He had never owned a pet because of the emotional attachment and responsibility involved, he certainly did not want to be a father figure for seven soldiers that shared their every thought.

"We will go prepare. If we wish to keep the neural transceivers then we have to impress the generals and prove that the time and money you invested in their creation was worth it. Once again, thank you Dr Borg." Five said as all seven left Jeff's office.

**Skynet Military Base April 7, 2023 AD**

The generals' inspection had been a very good thing for Jeff. They had seen how well his subjects preformed, unlike Stryker they read Jeff's reports, they even talked with Four (Jeff wasn't sure why they had decided to only interview Four as opposed to all seven but whatever). All in all, the generals were impressed and wanted Jeff to continue his work.

Jeff has wanted to implant several scientists to see how well the knowledge sharing worked for complex, multi-layer theories and research. Distributing knowledge how to hold a gun was one thing, it was practically reflex once the training was ingrained, but knowledge that required years of study? That would represent a true test for his invention.

Unfortunately, the generals had decided they wanted Jeff to do more work to improve conditions for troops in the field. The higher end stuff could be put off till later when American troops weren't dying in battlefields on the other side of the planet. Jeff honestly didn't remember what they were fighting for. Oil? Freedom? Territory? Chocolate? Didn't really matter, whatever the reason, Jeff had been forced to find a way to do what the generals wanted and still test the limits of the neural transceivers. Luckily, it had be quite easy to find ways to do just that.

The next group of subjects would be three times as big as the first group. With twenty one members, there should be a dramatic increase in data getting transferred between the transceivers. Jeff wanted to see if there was a limit to how much information a person could handle getting sent directly into their brain. What's more, Jeff made sure to include a combat medic in this new group. While a multi-degree scientist would have been preferable, Jeff decided to settle for a guy who knew how to put organs back into bodies and sew things up nicely in the middle of a battle as a test subject for the advanced knowledge portion of the test.

Currently, Jeff was searching through the various lists of candidates to see if any of them had criminal records or were in danger of receiving dishonorable discharges. If foul-mouthed Five could be made normal after getting his mind linked, plugging the biggest nutjob available into the network should make for an interesting test. Between the extra minds being added in, the advanced medical knowledge, and the closest thing to a psychopath that Jeff could find, the neural transceivers should be in for quite a testing. Sure, there was some danger to it all. If the transceivers weren't up to the test the results would probably be spectacular in their failure. But, if the tests were monitored closely, even if they failed, there would be plenty of data to show what hardware and software improvements needed to be made for the next iteration of the transceivers.


	2. Chapter 2: Of Nanites and Grey Goo

**Chapter 2: Of Nanites and Grey Goo**

**Skynet Military Base January 3, 2025 AD**

Despite, or maybe because of, the success of his twenty-one and seven man teams in whatever exercises they were assigned to, people seemed unwilling to allow Jeff to work on non-combat research. It had taken a almost two years of pleading to the various simians that were in charge but Jeff's efforts had finally paid off. He wasn't sure who, but someone had finally decided to use their brain and go with Jeff's recommendation and allow a research team to be implanted with the neural transceivers. Then again, the team that had volunteered was a research team that specialized in nanotechnology that hadn't made any progress in three years. They were about to be shut down if they hadn't agreed to this project so there may have been alternate reasons for wanting to get implanted. Either way, Jeff was glad that he could finally move forward with the project.

Implanting the neural transceivers in a group that even the regular morons in the military considered failures might seem like an effort in futility to most people but Jeff thought that was the wrong way to look at the scenario. He knew that the transceivers worked. Jeff was sure that the transceivers would make the researchers successful in their nanobot development. Well, it was possible that nanomachines were as advanced as the could get, nanotech could be the next steam powered technology...but there was a rather small chance of that. Much more likely that, with their minds linked, the scientists would a huge leap forward in the nanotech field. All of these thoughts quickly passed through his consciousness as he stared at the pre-op brain scans of one of the so called "scientists." She had had brain surgery several years ago so Jeff had wanted to take a look to see if he would need to alter the neural transceiver at all. So far, there was some slight scar tissue around the hypothalamus but it wasn't bad enough to affect things negatively. Still, Jeff had to be through and check every scan, every angle. He didn't want her dropping dead because a wire interfered with a healed injury. His musing was interrupted by his office door opening.

Jeff didn't even bother turning around, he knew it could only be one person. "I see you've abandoned the pre-text of knocking and decided to invade my privacy whenever the mood strikes you Sarah."

"Yea, yea. Good morning to you Jeff." Sarah said distractedly. Since Jeff had yet to turn around, he didn't notice Sarah's nervous pacing or body tics. She was clearly upset about something.

"So what prompted today's breach of my voluntarily induced solitary confinement?"

"I wanted to ask why you are so insistent on working on the scientists? Why not stick with working on soldiers? Do you realize how much good you've done already? The seven man squad is a crack commando unit in South America!"

His voice dulled with boredom, clearly not desiring to partake in any kind of conversation, Jeff responded, "I'm actually aware of their actions Sarah. I receive mail from them weekly. They are like little kids that want their parents to watch them jump off the pool's high dive. Every single letter is practically begging for my approval."

That grabbed Sarah's attention. She was usually pretty good at telling if Jeff was being serious or just mocking her and she thought this was the former but she had to double check. "Your joking."

"Here's a little puzzle for your underdeveloped brain to ponder for a little while, but not too long or you might induce an aneurysm: because of the first group's feelings for me, I made it a point to never talk to anyone in the second group. Despite that, they are starting to see me as a father figure as well. I've even started getting letters from them. Apparently, they are about to get deployed in Israel working counter-terrorism. Guess their superiors figured they needed a break from hunting terrorists in the mountains."

"Wait, you actually read the letters? You don't find any of this at all creepy?"

"It is not 'creepy.' I created them, I basically am their father. When they first told me of their feelings, I'll admit, I was a little concerned. Seven grown men telling you they love is not something that usually happens. Though I'm sure you're used to that sort of thing, but I hope you charge them extra for the lovey dovey crap. Anyway, I've since figured out what they meant. They are only doing it because they want to keep me involved in their lives. My high dive analogy is quite accurate, I assure you."

Sarah didn't even bother responding to Jeff's insult, she instead asked, "So you have twenty eight, by now highly trained, killers that worship you like a little kid worships his dad?"

"While none of the words you just used had more than two syllables, that is an accurate summary of the situation. I realize you want to be brief but you're only a few steps above grunts and hand gestures here."

Sarah decided she had had enough of Jeff's mocking and directed the conversation back on track. "Wait, wait, wait. This is not why I came in here. Why have you stopped working on the soldiers? What is with the paperwork I've been getting that says you're doing some experiments on some nanotech researchers! We are at war and your cyber-soliders have saved the lives of numerous men in the field!"

"Your lack of volume control is not going to make me explain things quicker you howler monkey. The military doesn't need me to continue that work. I've explained the procedure to several...well I guess they could be called brain surgeons, every single time I implanted the transceivers in someone it was filmed. I'm looking long term here, something I made clear in the reports I send you since you are technically my boss. Though judging from this conversation I'm guess you still don't read them. Do you just use them as napkins or something? I realize its hard for you to resist your evolutionary urges but since you don't defecate in public I would think you can learn to use utensils instead of shoveling the food in your mouth with your hands."

"Don't try to use that excuse on me! I have read the reports you send me, as well as the ones I get sent about you. Every attempt to implant the transceivers as ended badly. You are the only one skilled enough to preform the surgeries correctly and you know it! The lucky ones die on the operating table, the ones that survive end up as vegetables!

"It is hardly my fault that the army has such low qualification standards for its neural surgeons. And if these volunteers were so eager to let a barely educated mouth-breather take a set of hedge clippers to their cerebral cortex than that is natural selection at work."

Sarah was momentarily struck speechless. She had always known Jeff didn't like people he considered less intelligent than himself (which was pretty much everyone) but this was on a whole new level. "How can you be so heartless?"

Jeff didn't even bother disguising his sarcasm. "Oh, I'm sorry. For some reason, I thought I was hired because I posses an intellect to rival that of Aristotle and I've done so much work in the field of robotics that it would make Dr. Wily jealous. Clearly, I was brought on because of my jolly nature and the volunteer work I did at children hospitals. I'm must be having an off day, I promise I'll be back to my Mother Theresa-esk ways tomorrow."

Sarah didn't even bother to come up with an answer, she simply stormed out of the office. Jeff was rather surprised, it was normally a lot harder to annoy Sarah. Must be her time of the month. With that mystery figured out, Jeff resumed studying the brain scans.

**Washington DC January 3, 2025 AD**

General Valentine was on the subway, deep in thought. He was supposed to be in his office at the Pentagon but found he did his best thinking on trains, probably a product of growing up with a single father that constantly traveled but was too cheap to fly. So here the general sat, riding the Blue Line back and forth, trying to figure what he was going to do about Dr. Borg. The man had developed technology that allowed instant communication between troops, and yet didn't seem to care. Valentine had read the reports of what the seven-man squad had done in the fields, it was astonishing. Valentine had had high hopes after seeing them preform two years ago in the Skynet base in Alabama, and he was not disappointed. Practically regardless of what mission they were sent on, Borg's cyborgs always succeeded, even on missions that had been deemed suicide. Valentine really wanted more soldiers outfitted with Borg's invention. The problem was the delicate nature of the implanting the devices seemed too difficult for anyone but Dr. Borg. Borg had provided diagrams, step-by-step instructions, and video recordings of the implantation operations yet other surgeons kept screwing up the procedure. When Borg had been shown the now lobotomized or deceased subjects, he had been able to almost immediately identify where the other surgeons had screwed up. When the surgeons had tried again on a new group, they had screwed up again in some new way. Valentine did not understand all the biology and technical details, but it basically came down to the fact that only Dr. Borg could successfully implant the neural transceivers. The initial seven hadn't been a fluke either, Borg had done it again with twenty one other subjects and they were just as successful as the first seven.

Initially, Valentine and his fellow generals had denied Borg's request to experiment on a research team. Creating more improvements for the cyber-soldiers was a much better use of his time. Borg had reluctantly agreed to continue working on the soldiers but then things kept popping up that delayed Borg's work. First, he couldn't find the right test subjects so Borg had decided to work on hardware improvements of the transceivers until he found the enough volunteers. Then there were problems getting the correct materials for construction, and once they finally arrived the transceivers were built incorrectly because of some stupid miscommunication. After that Borg discovered a software bug that would make the new transceivers incapable of interfacing due to the hardware upgrade. And there were numerous other little things that further delayed things. Eventually Valentine had realized that Borg was intentionally stalling. Borg knew he was the only one who could implant the transceivers and since he had been told that he had to work on soldiers instead of scientists had adopted the mindset of a kindergartner, namely the take-my-ball-and-go-home-unless-we-play-the-game-I-want mentality. Normally, Valentine wouldn't tolerate this kind of insubordination but Borg wasn't technically part of the military. He was an outside contractor so Valentine was limited in what he could do. Valentine eventually decided on a way to fix two problems with one solution. There had been a nanotech research team in the Sarif Base in Florida that had not made any progress in three years. Here was a group of scientists that knew they were on the verge of getting shut down so they would jump at any chance to keep their jobs. Borg got an opportunity to experiment and Valentine got to shut down a useless project without having to do all the paperwork involved. Transfer forms were so much quicker to fill out than termination reports.

The reason Valentine was riding the subway, deep in thought, was because he was concerned about what would happen next. There was no way Borg would actually succeed in making the scientists smarter, they would get implanted and there would be no real improvement in their work performance. Being able to see and hear what other people can is a huge boon for soldiers, but scientists? Not so much. Valentine didn't understand why Borg was so eager to implant them anyway. When he had met Borg in the Skynet base, the man had been an arrogant, self-centered, egg head completely lacking in anything resembling humility. Therefore, Valentine had a pretty good idea what motivated Borg: his ego. Borg thought he was the smartest person in the room and wanted everyone to know it. So long as things went Borg's way, he was pretty easy to predict, but things wouldn't go his way. The scientists wouldn't be any smarter, and Valentine would be able to order Borg back to working on soldiers. When Valentine told Borg the project was shut down because it produced no new results, what would Borg do? Would he want to try again with a different research group? Would he be willing to go back to working on soldiers? Would he quit in shame? After an hour of thinking on the subway, Valentine still had no idea.

**Sarif Base July 13, 2027** **AD**

Jeff was not normally the kind of person to use hyperbole, but he could not be happier than he was at this instance. The nanotech team had all been safely implanted and had immediately started showing concern for the future of the group rather than their individual job futures. Prior to getting the transceivers implanted, every member of the team made it quite clear to Jeff that it was every other team member's fault except for theirs for the group's failures so he found it interestingly that they had homogenized quicker than either of the previous two groups. After only two days with the transceivers, the researchers had set aside all their squabbles about the lack of results and had been quite eager to get back to work.

Getting back to Florida had taken a full week longer than expected. Apparently, the monkeys in charge wanted extra assurances that there were no negative side effects. Jeff took that to mean that even failed scientists were more valuable than soldiers. If he actually cared about people that could barely walk upright he would probably have been indignant over the whole thing. Equal society where everyone is treated the same, riiiiight. Regardless, once the doctors (Jeff still couldn't call that them to their faces without bursting into laughter) declared everyone perfectly fine, the team was sent back to Florida to work on their nanotech research. Unfortunately, in order to properly observe his subjects Jeff had to go with them. It wasn't that he loved the Skynet Base, but it was certainly the least bad place he had ever worked. The Sarif Base wasn't even a base, it was a nondescript office building right off the beach in Miami. That meant Jeff would have to deal with reckless drivers, retirees, idiot tourists, loud college students, and...ugh Cubans. Jeff wasn't racist, skin coloration had nothing to do with intelligence after all, it was a natural evolutionary step when living in warm climates to cut down on skin damage from the Sun. He just could not stand people that didn't speak basic English. The American economy is the only thing keeping half the nations on the planet afloat. If you're from a country the US annexed into the 78th state five years ago you should be able to speak English by now.

Still, living in Miami, and all the crap he had to put up with, was all worth it for this moment. After a year and half, the research team had made a giant breakthrough. They had developed nanobots that could be programed to build and fix machines on an incredibly tiny scale. Jeff was partially responsible for the success. Shortly after coming to Florida, he had been talking with one of the team members about the difficulty of doing hardware upgrades to their neural transceivers. These nanobots were developed with that particular problem in mind. Rather than attempting a dangerous operation, the nanobots could be injected into the subject's bloodstream and they work their way through the body to the brain and make the changes to the transceiver.

The team had just finished successfully upgrading one of their neural transceivers with the nanobots. A month prior they had used the nanobots to repair a broken leg, but that wasn't considered a full test. All they had to do was inject the nanobots and sufficient calcium and the machines were able to put the bone back together. Altering a piece of technology, without causing any damage to the surrounding brain tissue, was the ultimate challenge, a challenge they had beaten.

Jeff could not wait to call Sarah up so that he could rub this in her face. This had most definitely not been a waste of time. So he hadn't found new ways for soldiers to kill other soldiers, big whoop. Instead, his work had allowed for the development of the world's first multi-functional, cost effective nanobot. Once the military decided to release these things to the public so many aspects of society would change. Medical technology would be so much quicker. And it was all because of his neural transceivers, hail to the king baby.

The only thing that might screw all this up was the fact that someone needed to come up with a reason for why the military should care about this. Considering all the nonsensical reasons he used to justify projects back at Skynet Base, he wasn't too worried, but it was still something he had to plan for.

As Jeff stood there, debating on whether or not he felt like going through the three different security checkpoints in order to get to the smoke lounge to enjoy a celebratory cigarette he noticed one of the scientists approach him. He didn't remember any of their original names but that was fine with them. Not only had they adjusted to being linked quicker than the previous two groups, they enjoyed it to such an extent they all preferred being called by the same name (Jeff still had trouble remembering, Decker? Damion?) since they seemed to consider themselves one mind.

"Hello...Dilbert."

"Denton."

"Right, right, Denton. I must say, I'm impressed that you all managed to get the nanobots working correctly so quickly. Working on the neural transceivers took me about two years. You all managed it in about the same amount of time."

"Dr. Borg, you can not compare our results with yours. You are a genius of incomparable intellect. You took an idea from scratch, thought up theories, built prototypes, and then upgraded them based on data. We had been working on the nanobots for three years previous to your intervention. And it was only your intervention that allowed us to succeed, we would never have been able to create these nanobots without your neural transceivers linking our minds."

"Oh, I know." Jeff wasn't about to turn down credit on one of humanity's most important discoveries. "That doesn't mean I don't find your progress impressive though.

"Thank you, Dr. Borg. We are glad you appreciate our work. If you do not mind us asking, you looked somewhat pensive just now rather than happy. We were worried."

"Oh, its nothing major. I was just thinking about what excuses we will have to use to convince the military to allow us to continue the project."

"The original mission statement of the project was to create functional nanobots. It was intentionally vague because we did not know what possibilities existed for us to discover. We were successful in the project, should that not be enough?"

"I know what you're doing...Denton?" When Denton nodded his head in agreement Jeff continued. "You know damn well that General Valentine never expected any of this to succeed, he wants me back at Skynet figuring out new ways for to improve the transceivers for soldiers. Since you were successful he will think that you clearly don't need me anymore so I will get sent back unless I can come up with some reason why your research will help deployed soldiers, in which case he will let me implant more scientists. You only asked me because you know I like to explain things, don't do that. If I'm going to patronize someone I would prefer it be towards someone who actually deserves it."

"Of course, Dr. Borg. We will not do it again." Though Jeff could tell by the smile on Denton's face that this would, in fact, happen again. As much as he tried to put his foot down about it, Jeff had to admit he did like lecturing and he did feel better. He felt like a parent, trying to discipline a child even though you were secretly pleased with them. "So, what justifications shall we use to continue with our research?"

Jeff contemplated the question for a moment. "Well, we could point out how the nanobots could be used to filtrate harmful chemicals and bacteria out of water. Or, we could explain that nanobots can be used to do rapid field repairs of vehicles and weapons. There is also the possibility of eventually creating a quantum computer. Like I said, nothing to worry about."

**Washington DC July 19, 2027 AD**

General Valentine was a big enough man to admit when he had been wrong. The neural transceivers did, in fact, work on the science team as Borg had predicted. When Borg had first started asking to be allowed to work on scientists instead of soldiers, Valentine hadn't seen the point. How would sharing audio and visual data help scientists? It wasn't until about a five months ago, when talking with his aide, Nikki Slawson, about the transceivers, that Valentine understood his mistake. Valentine had asked her to take a closer look at the entire neural transceiver project reports and figure out why Borg had wanted to implant scientists and how the group seemed to be making progress in their nanobot research. Slawson had explained to him that the transceivers shared more than just basic data, they apparently also shared knowledge and memories. That's what Valentine got for just skimming the reports. Still, you would think that would have come up at some point when Valentine and the other generals had visited the Skynet Base four years ago.

A few days ago, Valentine had received a report from Borg's team in Florida. Seems they had been successful in their research and had developed nanobots that could be programmed to build, move, and repair practically anything. After almost screwing up the entire project by not reading Borg's initial reports about his transceivers possibilities, Valentine made sure he read the entire report about the nanobots. Any of the parts he hadn't understood he had told Slawson to research and explain to him...which considering Borg's vocabulary and propensity to ramble was pretty much the entire report. So Valentine sat in his office, eating the lunch his wife packed (damn woman and her damn health kick), while Slawson checked the notes she had written down as she got ready to explain everything about the nanobots. Valentine wished he could be riding the subway for this, but Slawson had a lot of work to do so they had arranged to do this during lunchtime.

"Alright sir, you already know that nanomachines are basically tiny robots. Putting aside the difficulty of creating such tiny machines, they are also quite hard to program to do anything useful. The nanotech team has somehow figured out a way to build these machines in such a way that they are stable and advanced enough to contain several terabytes of data each. Before you ask, that is a lot of data for such a small device, sir."

"Ah, thank you Slawson."

"Your welcome, sir. Now, the primary purpose that the nanomachines were being tested on is their ability to alter and repair other machines. For example, they could be programmed to recognize a machine form, such as a working Jeep, and if they were unleashed on a Jeep with a broken axle, they would know to repair the axle molecule by molecule. Or, if a gun jammed and the nanites were put in the gun, they would remove the blockage and fix any parts that might have broken."

"This almost sounds too good to be true Slawson. What's the catch?"

"Well, for starters, there is the length of time involved. The nanobots can't be used for rapid field repairs, they simply take too long. There is also a danger of the nanites becoming von Neumann machines."

"What? The nanites could transform into some other machine?"

"Oh no no no, sir. Not like that. The term "von Neumann machine" refers to nanomachines that continue to build or repair, whatever their programming dictates, and never stop."

"How is that a bad thing? So the nanites keep repairing the Jeep so that it works, whats the big deal?"

"Well, so long as they are only on the Jeep, nothing is wrong. What happens when the nanobots are off the Jeep and land on a cactus or a camel?"

"Uh...well...I have no idea."

"Well sir, science fiction says that it would eventually lead to the end of the world as the nanobots use up all available resources on the planet, but there are apparently safeguards built in. The biggest one being that the nanobots are not capable of repairing or building more of themselves so they will eventually all break down and become inert dust. Also, the nanites can receive software updates through wireless transmission so the machines can be shut down if they stop working correctly Furthermore, the nanobots were programmed so that they only work on machines that are similar to the original shape. That way the Jeep-fixing nanites won't try to fix a broken bone."

"Sounds like the team has taken numerous precautions to make sure they don't accidentally end the world then." Valentine tried, he did, to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. The idea that some tiny robots could bring about the apocalypse was something he expected out of a poorly written science-fiction movie. Why would intelligent scientists actually take time to build on safeguards for something like that? Then again, he hadn't listened to Borg beforehand and had been proven wrong so Valentine supposed the scientists knew what they were talking about. If they felt the nanobots were dangerous, he might as well believe them. "So, what you're telling me is that, thanks to the neural transceivers, the team made a huge scientific breakthrough and that the military can make ample use of these nanobots."

"Yes sir, in fact they have already put forward a report saying what their next project will be. They want to see if the nanobots can be programmed to safely construct the neural transceivers inside a person's brain. If they are successful, then we won't be exclusively reliant on Dr. Borg to preform the implantation surgeries."

"Wait, you mean to tell me we _still_ haven't had a transceiver successfully implanted by a surgeon other than Borg?"

"There has been some success sir. We had a group of four implanted, and none of them suffered any psychological damage. They all suffer from various physical problems due to the brain surgery, but they are able to communicate through the transceivers."

Valentine set his fork down next to his salad (he wanted a turkey sandwich but noooo, his cholesterol was too high for him to be eating meat) and rubbed his temples with a groan. With a deep sigh he asked, "Alright, is there anything else about the nanobots I need to know?"

"Not particularly sir."

"OK, seeing as how the neural transceivers are pretty much solely responsible for the success of the nanite research, we need to get more science teams implanted with the devices. If we don't get enough volunteers, start "requesting" that teams get implanted. We could jump our technology forward by decades if enough researchers are using the transceivers, and with the war in Africa taking a nose dive because of the damn rebel's guerrilla tactics, we need that technological advantage."

"Yes, sir. One more thing, sir. Your wife called, she wanted to let you know she's making tofu for dinner and that if you don't clean your plate she'll know you cheated on your diet."

With a groan, Valentine let his head drop to his desk with a loud thud. After banging his head against the desk several times, he took a breath and said, "Thank you Slawson, you're dismissed."

As Slawson left Valentine's office, she had to shake her head in amazement. Valentine was a good man but he was just so lazy. Slawson knew he wasn't stupid, Valentine just didn't want to put in the effort to learn everything required for this job (which made Slawson wonder how he got this position). Some day's Slawson felt like she spent more time explaining things than doing her job as his secretary. When she first got this job, Slawson was a fresh college graduate; now she had managerial skills that put most CEO's to shame and knew far more about secret military research projects than conspiracy theorists because Valentine didn't want to put in the effort to do it himself.


	3. Chapter 3: The Cat and the Bag

**The Cat and the Bag**

**Sarif Building January 13, 2035 AD**

There were few times in Jeff's life in which he felt stupid. In fact, he could count all the occasions on one hand. There was the time in 11th grade when he had let his hormones get the better of him and he had developed feelings for a girl. Luckily, Jeff had the self-control not to ever act on those feelings. Standing naked in the reactor core of a nuclear power plant would have diluted his genes less than mating with that lactose intolerant troglodyte. The second time, just after he graduated high school, Jeff, inspired by Francis Crick's discovery of DNA, had gotten high on acid. After the bookcase in his bedroom had turned into a Spanish speaking pick-up truck, Jeff had run crying to what he thought was his mother but turned out to be the refrigerator. The third time was when he decided to submit his calculations to the Guinness Book of World Records for most decimal points discovered after Pi, only to be told he was four digits short. The final time was when, after being depressed about the Pi incident, Jeff had converted to Hasidic Judaism for a week. It had only been four mistakes for the majority of his life, and now he had to add a fifth.

When his first seven subjects had been implanted with neural transceivers, they had developed feelings for Jeff that were borderline hero-worship. While Jeff loved being praised for being the smartest man on the planet (it wasn't bragging if it was true, then it was just a statement of a fact) what those seven had said to him was just weird enough that it left him concerned. In an effort to avoid that happening again, when he had implanted the twenty one man group, Jeff made sure he never interacted with the subjects. The only time he was even in the same room as one of them was when they were unconscious as he was implanting the transceivers. And yet those twenty one men developed the same feelings towards Jeff as the first group. As the old saying goes, familiarity breeds complacency and he eventually got used to it and stopped worrying about the weird feelings. It wasn't until he was in Florida and the implanted scientists started showing signs of the hero-worship behavior that Jeff thought about it again. He would have done something about it but they were making incredible strides in the field of nanotechnology and he was getting all sorts of ideas and data he could use to improve the neural transceivers that he didn't want to potentially alter the situation negatively.

About a year ago, Jeff's research had begun to plateau so he had found himself with more free time. He had decided to use it to attempt to figure out how the second group of soldiers developed feelings for him. Unfortunately, Jeff had made no actual progress beyond theories so he had decided to do something truly radical and simply ask the scientists how the second group knew who he was. Any good researcher knows telling test subjects you are watching their behavior can cause them to alter their behavior, but this was a unique situation.

The response Jeff had gotten was so obvious he wondered if he should flagellate himself as punishment. "Much like ourselves, they were told who you were and what you did for us."

"Told by whom? All the staff had been briefed not to mention me."

"By the other seven people on the neural network."

"...oh."

The subjects weren't just connected to the people they had been with when they were implanted; they could share knowledge with everyone that had a neural transceiver! It was one thing for the idiots that he worked with not to notice anything but how did he, the finest example of Homo sapiens genetic destiny, miss that? Jeff decided that he could hire a bouncer to hit him with a baseball bat at a later date, now he finally had the reason why the military should release the neural transceivers to the public.

For the past three years Jeff had been trying to get the neural transceivers declassified but every single person that he had talked to had told Jeff the same basic thing: while the neural transceivers would no doubt cause a drastic increases in American technology and efficiency, thereby stimulating the not-so-great economy, there was too big a danger of the transceivers falling into the wrong hands. By this point, over 5000 people had been implanted, most were secret commando type soldiers but there was also a sizable number of scientists (most of which weren't worthy of the job title until after they had gotten the transceivers). More importantly, since they were all linked that meant, regardless of clearance level or whether they were still in the military, there was a lot of top secret information in the heads of people that weren't supposed to know it. And yet, in the twelve years since Jeff created the transceivers, there had never been any information leaks. Was it because everyone on the network was just a trustworthy person or was it because if any of them thought about selling secret information that everyone else on the network would immediately know about it? If it was the latter (and Jeff suspected that it was) then the military had no excuse not to release the transceivers, they were already self-monitoring themselves. Jeff had no doubt that he would get chewed out once he explained why it was no big deal to release the neural transceivers on the market. They were his creations and he made a rather large mistake overseeing the project but other than the prospect of getting yelled at by people that could barely tie their own shoes, things looked good.

Jeff decided he would need to talk with someone who had a transceiver to get a better understanding of what motivated them and how they dealt with the whole mind-connected-to-every-other-mind-on-the-network thing. It was not a long walk through the Sarif Building to locate an implantee, their ability to share knowledge made them perfect security guards so the military "encouraged" teams guarding important installations to drink the nanite cocktail. That was another thing Jeff was impressed with: the progress the nanite development team had made. Originally, the nanobots had to be injected directly into the bloodstream and it would take two weeks for a neural transceiver to grow in the subject's brain (along with daily injections of the necessary materials the nanties would need to assemble the transceiver). Now, the nanomachines could be orally ingested and would safely build a transceiver in just over a day, taking all the construction materials safely from the body's natural deposits. Jeff's thoughts came to a halt as he saw a security guard.

"You there...er...guard! I have some questions I desire answered."

The exceedingly tall guard turned to face Jeff with an ever so slight smile on his face (had the military started a human-giraffe crossbreeding program or something?). "Of course Dr Borg. We will assist you in any way possible."

"Good. I recently had a conversation with one of the nanite scientists and she told me that everyone with a neural transceiver is connected and you _all_share each other's thoughts...though if what she said was true then you already know what I'm telling you."

"You are correct Dr. Borg."

"So that means you know the details of all the secret missions that were undertaken by some members of the neural network even though you aren't supposed to be aware that they even occurred."

"They never did occur Dr Borg. But if they had happened, then yes, we would all be aware of them." The security guard's expression did not change even slightly as he spoke. Jeff was suddenly glad that he had turned down the invitation to play poker with some of the implanted scientists last week.

"And you're not at all concerned that the government might want to silence you because of what you know?" Jeff asked, barely managing to keep any emotions out of his voice.

"Such a possibility does exist, but to do so would hurt the government more than it would help."

"How do you figure? Don't you remember when the writ of _habeas corpus_was temporally suspended 4 years ago after the domestic terrorist attacks? How many people disappeared? Actually, you know the answer to that since some of you helped to do it! Our government stopped caring about the people years ago, now it just cares about existing. If they think you're a danger, why wouldn't they get rid of you?" This time Jeff couldn't keep his emotions under control this time and he wasn't sure why. He didn't care about the government, he knew he was too valuable to ever eliminate so what was bugging him? Was he worried that the neural transceivers would all get decommissioned? Yea, that must be it. He was worried about his legacy.

The guard answered Jeff's questions without a hint of concern, still smirking. "The neural network is not as smart as it is simply because we can almost instantaneously share knowledge. It is also because of our own ability to redistribute thoughts for rapid calculations when rest is required."

"...you're saying that when a science team is asleep and not thinking that, say, a group of security guards picks up the thought process right where the other team left off?"

"That is correct Dr. Borg." The guard paused and his smile disappeared and his face went utterly blank. "If the government sought to protect its secrets by killing us it would only limit its ability to gain new secrets. Paranoia from government officials may eventually lead to our demise, but there is not much we can do about it. We are what we are."

"That is a rather...consigned attitude to take. You would roll over and die so easily?"

"They could kill our bodies Dr. Borg. Our minds will survive so long as the neural network exists, and we've already proven how effective the transceivers are for research so there is an incredibly low probability that the government would ever completely eliminate them from science teams."

"You guys are immortal?"

The guard's knowing smile returned. "Using the vernacular definition, that word does describe our situation."

Jeff took a moment to reflect on that particular tidbit of information. People with neural transceivers gained mental immortality so long as there was sufficient hardware to support them. Jeff knew he was a smart man, but he didn't realize he was that smart. Without trying, or even intending to, he had solved one of mankind's oldest dilemmas: death. Such a realization would make any other person on the planet an arrogant prick, vastly overestimating their own intelligence until they bit off more than they could chew. Luckily, Jeff already knew he was so smart that he made Leonardo Da Vinci look like an inbreed farmhand so there wasn't any danger of that.

Seeing as how well asking the scientists for advice about the neural transceivers had gone, Jeff decided to do it again and simply ask about what was bothering him. "Alright, I have one more question. If neural transceiver plans were leaked to another government, could they hack into the network and steal our research?"

The guard actually laughed at the question. It wasn't quite a deep belly laugh, but it was more than the light chuckle implantees usual did. "No, we would not allow it."

"I thank you for your answers. This will help me immensely." With that Jeff turned and started walking back to his office.

**Washington DC January 16, 2035 AD**

Nikki Slawson did not understand how General Valentine was still married. He complained about his wife all the time, he talked about how he would love for either one of them to kick the bucket so that he would finally have some quiet time, he thought up all sorts of excuses to avoid her. Slawson was pretty sure the only reason he hadn't retired was because that would mean he would be stuck at home. This job was Valentine's excuse to avoid his wife, though at this point it could barely be called a job. Slawson pretty much did his entire job for him; all he did was provide his signature. She enjoyed it most of the time but today was not one of those days because she was currently stuck in a video conference with the most arrogant bastard on the planet.

"Look you self-conceited egghead, I don't care how important you think you are, General Valetine is a busy man so unless you can convince me that what you have to tell him can't wait until he reads the report you submitted, he ain't hearing about it!" Slawson was almost shouting at the screen that displayed Dr. Borg in his office in Florida.

"You are a glorified secretary drunk with power, stop acting as though you guard the gates of Valhalla and tell Valentine I have vital information concerning the Herpes Initiative!" Slawson took a small bit of satisfaction in the fact that he appeared equally frustrated with her.

If Slawson wasn't so frustrated with Dr. Borg, she would have smirked. Valentine didn't know a damn thing about the Herpes Initiative. Borg didn't want to tell her everything because he didn't think she had clearance when in truth she had been the one responding to all of his email and reports. Why the possibility of releasing the neural transceivers to the public had been codenamed Herpes Initiative she would never know, but regardless she felt it would be a bad idea since the scientists implanted with the transceivers had largely been responsible for the majority of all the technological breakthroughs in military research and once the transceivers went public, it was only a matter of time until Russia or China got a hold of them.

"If it's that vital, you can tell it to me and I will tell the General, otherwise wait until he reads your report." Slawson had meant to read the report as soon as Borg had sent it in, but there had been an unsuccessful terrorist attack on the Pentagon the same day so everyone had been evacuated and questioned. But having set a precedent of always responding to Borg right away had caused him to call in worried, and after having listening to him insult her for the past half hour, Slawson was content to sit on the report for a week before reading it.

It was at that point that someone knocked on the door to Borg's office. Borg's only response was to loudly shout "Got fornicate with yourself! I'm in the middle of a call!"

But whoever had knocked didn't leave, instead Slawson saw the door open and a man entered the office. Judging from his clothing, Slawson guessed the man was a security guard. She was surprised to notice that when Borg spun his chair around he did not launch into a rant telling the man to leave, if anything his body language indicated that Borg was much more at ease now. The guard came over and placed his hand over the microphone and began talked to Borg. Slawson didn't know what the man was saying but she watched as the expression on Borg's face went from angry to surprised, to annoyed, back to angry, and finally he just looked resigned.

Borg waved the guard away from his desk. As the guard removed his hand from the microphone Slawson heard Borg mutter "Fine, I'll try it your way." With that he turned his attention from the guard back to Slawson, cleared his throat and started talking in a clearly forced tone. "Ms Slawson, I...apologize for my behavior. I...I shouldn't assume that my project is the most important project General Valentine oversees, even if it should be." Slawson noticed the last part was spoken rapidly as if Borg couldn't resist blowing his own horn when given the opportunity.

"Also...I would like to apologize for saying you only got your job because of your ability to cover up your bad breath and knee problems. I shouldn't have pointed it out." That barely qualified as an apology but Slawson got the feeling that it was the best she would get.

Realizing that she finally had an excuse to end this video call, Slawson said, "Thank you Dr Borg. He is very busy but I shall make sure your report is the first one General Valentine reads when he comes in tomorrow."

Slawson could tell from the strained look on his face that this was taking a lot of effort on Borg's part. "...Thank you Ms Slawson. I look forward to hearing from the General."

**Sarif Building January 16, 2035 AD**

"Well, that was certainly a surprise. Your advice worked." Jeff said as he spun his chair around to look at the security guard in his office.

"We have knowledge of social cues and generally accepted behavior from over 5000 people, it would have been more surprising if we had been wrong."

"Yes, I suppose the various members of the neural network that had barely moved past the tribal stage in their evolutionary societal development would have excellent behavioral analysis skills. It's what their brains are geared towards: find mate, kill rival, grunt with fellow males."

Jeff noticed that the guard's face didn't so much as twitch at the insult. "Dr. Borg, we are curious about the Herpes Initiative. It was important enough that you shouted so loudly and for so long that it required our intervention."

"Considering I just spent the last half hour arguing about clearance levels, I don't feel like doing it again so I'm just gonna go ahead and tell you even though I probably shouldn't. The Herpes Initiative is what I've been calling my attempts to get the neural transceiver designs declassified and released for public use."

While people who got implanted could still show emotion, they generally did not do so. Borg guessed it had to do with having their brains directly connected to other people. It's probably rather hard to get mad when you can hear the thoughts of eight other people, all of whom are incredibly bored. At most, people with implants would smirk or show a slight frown so Jeff was surprised to see the security guard's face change to a genuine look of surprise as the man asked, "Really? What progress have you made?"

"I've been shut down every single time. But thanks to the conversation I had with...one of you guys about how you can all be trusted with secret information, I think I'm making progress."

"That is excellent news Dr. Borg! Without being limited by the concerns and distrust of the military, many more people could be brought into the neural network." The guard's voice took on a hushed tone as he almost whispered, "We could achieve a technological singularity."

The guard's comment took Jeff by surprise. Certainly, there were some negative feelings towards people who got implanted with transceivers. They were accused of giving up their individuality, their humanity. Their lack of any strong emotions was another thing that caused many normal people to avoid implantees. But by the same token, it was undeniable that people with neural transceivers produced results. One would think the military, of all organizations, would be more concerned with results than anything else. Was there really that much antagonism towards implantees? Eh, it wouldn't really matter once they got released. Once companies started using implanted researchers for their products, everyone would quickly adjust to the odd behaviors.

**Sarif Building February 5, 2037 AD**

While Jeff always acted in a logical, rational way, he learned long ago that the rest of the human race was often driven by chemically-induced states of mind that an uninformed scientist would refer to as 'emotions'. As such, most of them were quite hard to predict because they acted in ways that were just plain stupid. Any sufficiently evolved creature should be able to weigh the risks and rewards in a situation and make a smart decision. Emotions should matter not, results were what were important. It was this failure to understand how the majority of people would react to a situation that had led to Jeff's current predicament.

Just over a year ago, Jeff had finally been told that the military was declassifying the neural transceiver designs and would be putting the construction rights up for auction. First off, auction? When the American government developed the Global Positioning System for the military, it became available for civilian use once the technology could support it. They didn't sell to raise money. Second, selling it meant it was limited to what one company decided to do with it. That was severely hindering the transceivers potential for societal change. When NASA developed advanced water filtration technology, other companies were free to make use of it. Third, he still had no idea what company had ended up with the rights. Apparently, part of the purchase deal was a secrecy clause. The neural transceivers were his babies, and he hadn't even been allowed to know who now had control of their creation. Fourth, an order had come from someone high up in the command chain (probably General Valentine, Jeff did not understand how the man could be so articulate and informed on paper and yet completely clueless in person) that Jeff was to be investigated. He didn't know what they MP's were looking for or why, and they weren't particularly inclined to fill him in either.

It wasn't until two minutes ago when Jeff had stormed into his boss's office and demanded answers that he finally had something resembling an explanation. Seemed Jeff had been under suspicion of leaking the neural transceiver blueprints to whatever company bought them prior to the actual purchase. While no evidence had been turned up, someone had still decided that Jeff's contract with the military would not be renewed once it came to an end in December.

Jeff felt that his boss (the man resembled a young William Shatner, minus all the charm) was taking too much delight in this whole discussion. It was probably a petty attempt at getting back at Jeff for always pointing out the man's numerous shortcomings. Still, Jeff had to give the man credit. He was doling out information at a trickle pace, clearing enjoying know something that Jeff didn't (it was a once in a life time opportunity after all, might as well let the man have his moment).

"So you see Jeff, in light of the circumstances, we feel that you could be a security risk and will not be keeping you on come new year." The man's smile was as oily as a leaking car engine.

"That is perfectly understandable, sir. Let me just say that you made an excellent steward for my work. You would do your job's ancestors proud, even if you would have been better off as the warded as opposed to the warder back then. Regardless, it will be no great lose, perhaps I shall seek a job with whatever company bought the patents to my creations." Jeff made sure to speak rapidly. It was incredibly unlikely that the man studied Middle English so Jeff doubted he would realize the insult that had just been delivered, but there was no reason to give the man's minuscule brain time to figure it out in the case that he was a scholar of a dead language, however small a chance that was.

"You're saying you don't already have a job with them? You seriously expect me to believe that Jeff?" The Shatner look-a-like narrowed his eyes.

Whatever-his-name's reaction surprised Jeff. "Why would I already have a job with them? Until today I had a job here. Plus, seeing as how I don't actually know who they are yet, its rather hard for me to have already sent them my resume."

"I know you think I'm an idiot Jeff; you made that abundantly clear ever since you were transferred here, but even I'm not that stupid. The company's named after you, subtle it ain't."

Jeff leaned back in the chair and slowly raised an eyebrow at his boss. "You know the name of the company? Isn't that above your clearance level? And don't you record all conversation that go on in your office 'just in case'? Should I contact your superior officer and tell him to request the tapes?"

The slick used car-salesman behind the desk immediately became a gambler about to lose his kneecaps to a loanshark. "Uh...well...I don't but well you see I happened to overhear some of the other officers talking. They ah mentioned that the company was called the Borg Collective. That was why you were under investigation. I uh realize you're not the only one with that last name, but come on that's an awfully big coincidence."

"It's not a coincidence, you're just not aware of the law of large numbers. As for the name itself...why Collective? Why not Borg Inc. or Borg Co.?" Jeff couldn't help lecturing his boss and wondering aloud. Despite what he had said, Jeff did find it unusual that Borg Collective was the name of the company that had bought the rights to the neural transceivers. And it still didn't answer why they had been allowed to buy them in the first place. They should have just been released into the public domain. "I imagine they chose Collective because all, or at least part of, the company's stock is owned by the employees and if that's that case, how did they afford to purchase the blueprints to my transceivers? Collectives are not known for being efficient."

Jeff continued talking to himself as he got up from his chair and walked out of the office, so lost in thought he didn't even notice when his boss nervously told him goodbye. Part of him was angry at this mysterious company for getting him fired, despite the many morons Jeff was forced to work with he truly enjoyed working for the Army. On the other hand, locating the Collective and getting a job there sounded like just the puzzle his brain needed. His neural transceiver research had tapered off about three years ago, he just couldn't seem to make any more major improvements to them so by this point he was ready to move onto a new project. Jeff started the long trek down the hallway towards his office. As he passed by one of the various security guards while still muttering to himself about the Borg Collective, the woman caught Jeff by the arm.

"Dr. Borg, excuse our interrupting, but did you just mention the Collective?" The guard almost sounded worried. That was an emotion Jeff wasn't sure he had ever heard in the voice of someone who had been implanted.

"I did. Seems that the Collective is responsible for my termination in the Army. I figured since they now control my neural transceivers that I might apply for a job with them. They are most likely a biotech firm of some kind so I will be quite qualified for whatever position I end up getting." Some people might consider it premature to assume they would get a job that they haven't even applied for yet, those people were under-qualified and would never succeed.

Jeff noticed that the guard did not seem to calm down at his statement. This was turning out to be a most unusual day. "Dr. Borg, could we speak to you in your office, please?"

"Very well, I was headed there anyway." As Jeff and the guard began walked toward his office he noticed she had completely calmed down. The other people on the network must have talked all the emotions out of her. Actually, was there any discussion that went on in the network? It was a near instantaneous transfer of knowledge and memories. Was inner dialogue even necessary? Something to ponder on a rainy weekend.

Jeff and the guard entered his office. She sat down in one of the chairs by the door while he walked behind his desk to locate his cigarettes. The Sarif Building, unlike the Skynet Base, allowed people to smoke indoors. Jeff immensely enjoyed that particular difference between the two locations. He did miss Sarah though, she was a far better boss than the annoyed man who's office he had just come from. As Jeff sat down behind his desk and lit up his cigarette (the last one in the pack, he would need to stop for some on the way home tonight) the guard said, "Dr Borg, there is something you should know about the Collective."

After slowly exhaling the smoke, Jeff asked "And what might that be?"

"We are the Collective."

"...OK, I've gotten used to how all you implantees don't refer to yourselves in the singular but this is one instance where I really wish you would. When you say "we" who exactly are you referring to?"

"Everyone on the neural network."

Jeff leaned forward in his chair and rested his arms on his desk, lightly puffing on his cigarette. "Everyone? _All_of you are the Collective? Care to explain how this whole situation arose or should I extrapolate based on what I've been told so far?"

"We will explain Dr. Borg. Two years ago you told us of your attempts to get the neural transceiver plans declassified. We concluded that it was unlikely that the government would ever willing release the blueprints, regardless of what you said. We decided to make them an offer: sell us the rights and we would create a company to oversee the distribution of the transceivers. We also added the addendum that it was unlikely we would wish to continue our employment under the United States Army leadership if our offer was refused. We believe that that was what caused your superiors to suspect your involvement in the whole situation."

"Because it was a situation that brilliantly had them by that balls so that they couldn't refuse?"

"Because of the utter lack of diplomacy we used. We stopped just short of calling our superiors Arsenic Sulfide."

Jeff leaned back in his chair and laughed at that. "Man, I don't think I've ever heard one of you make a joke. Alright alright, so why did you choose Borg Collective as a name? If the buffoons in charge didn't suspect me beforehand, they certainly would after hearing that."

The guard paused before speaking, almost as if she was embarrassed. "We wished to pay homage to our creator so we thought to name the company after you. We decided on Collective because of the neural network. We truly are a Collective Dr. Borg. We will all run the company to ensure that the network grows and we all prosper."

Jeff wasn't sure what emotion he should be feeling. Should he be angry that all this was going on behind his back? Should he be annoyed that despite all his efforts the only reason the Army agreed to release the neural transceivers was because they were threatened with a mass walk-out? Should he be happy that the transceiver rights were in the control of people who worshiped his every action? Jeff decided to go with a mix of emotions. "I don't recall ever implanting a neural transceiver in a hippy. Running the Collective like a Karl Marx wet dream is all well and good, but how does any of this affect me? Since I'm not implanted I don't see myself capable of working with you all on projects."

"You could work with us Dr. Borg; you are almost solely responsible for all the improvements made to the neural transceivers since their creation. You would be a valuable asset."

Jeff sneered. He didn't mind flattery as long as it was warranted (and it almost always was) but this was one instance when he felt he did not deserve the praise he was getting. "Please. I was responsible for many of the improvements early on but I haven't done anything significant in three years. That's why I spent so much time on the Herpes Initiative, which apparently was a waste of time since you guys handled it for me."

"Very well, what if we brought you on as a public liaison for us?"

Jeff almost laughed at that. While he was a brilliant scientist he was also aware that most people found him...hard to deal with. The idea that he would be a good liaison for _anything _was ridiculous. "What could you possibly need me for?"

"You are not implanted with a neural transceiver Dr. Borg. You will be useful for showing that we are not dangerous. We already have problems within the military concerning whether or not we can be trusted. It's only logical that those fears will be magnified when we enter the public awareness."

"You know what, why not? Once my tenure with the Army is over, I'll be glad to come work for the Collective." Jeff wasn't sure why he agreed. It might have been curiosity over doing something totally different from research and development, a desire to remain involved with his neural transceiver project, or maybe he found it enjoyable to be around implantees (though that last one was a very small possibility).

**Author's Note:** _For those that didn't get the steward insult: that word comes from the term "styward" which was the guy the guarded the pig stye so Jeff called his boss a pig. Also, if you didn't get the Arsenic Sulfide joke: on the periodic table the symbol of arsenic is "As" and the symbol for Sulfer is "S"_


	4. Chapter 4: CSPAN

**Collective's Science Programs Affect News**

**Borg Collective Headquarters December 19, 2038 AD**

Jeff did not understand why American culture dictated that birthdays should be celebrated. He understood why birthdays used to be celebrated; in the Dark Ages it was actually an accomplishment to survive another year without proper sanitation. But it was twenty frigging thirty eight, why did his mother insist on phoning him to wish him the best? So he turned forty three today, big whoop. Still, she was his Mommy so it wasn't like he could yell at her. Jeff remembered, quite distinctly, what his Dad had told him when he turned 16: "you ever make your mother cry, and I'm gonna make you cry." Considering Dad was a Mob hitman (allegedly, he was never convicted), Jeff had decided not to test that particular threat. It didn't matter that Jeff was in a well-guarded compound in California and his parents lived in Maryland, Dad was still scary. If Jeff was going to celebrate, he preferred it to be because he actually did something. For example, tomorrow Jeff had his first press conference since he took this job. If it went well then that would be something worth celebrating.

When he stopped to think about it, Jeff was rather disappointed with how the last two years had been. The last year working for the Army had been completely boring. Because of the animosity created when everyone with an implant threatened to quit unless Jeff got his way, Army officers didn't trust him with any projects. He wasn't sure what they had expected him to do; he was contractually obligated to stay till the end of 2037 yet they didn't want to let him work on any projects for fear he'd suddenly want that declassified or something. So Jeff had spent eight hours a day, five days a week, for ten months, going to a secret military base and getting paid to sit in his office. There was only so much porn he could look at in a given day before his body just refused to cooperate. Jeff had spent most of his work hours thinking up various inventions and projects; it had actually reminded Jeff of when he had worked at the Skynet Base. The big difference was, back then he could pursue those random thoughts and see if they were possible whereas in the Sarif Building if he had told anyone he would have been ignored or, even worse, they would have stolen the idea and then not told him about the results. Jeff had made sure to write down every idea he had and slip the notes to someone who had been implanted so that the Borg Collective could work on them instead. When his time with the Army was finally done, Jeff had been glad to get out though that feeling didn't last long. Jeff was the only employee in the Collective's public relations department, but since there were only twenty two full time employees besides him (they had been discharged from the military for various medical reasons) that wasn't a big deal. The big deal was that this job was no different from his last year with the Army. He sat on his butt and got paid for doing nothing. Until more people with implants left the military (they had decided to let their contracts expire instead of attempting to get discharged) the Collective couldn't do a whole lot, they simply didn't have enough people on hand. Last week one of the other employees had come into Jeff's office to let him know they had something he could do. Apparently, they had solved all twenty three of Hilbert's Problems. They felt this deserved a press conference and Jeff had to agree. This would get a lot of attention from the mathematical intelligentsia and hopefully some of them would want to come work for the Collective, or possibly even get implanted. Maybe they could get some donations or something. Jeff wasn't actually sure how he was getting paid or where the money to fund this company was coming from.

Things were particularly complicated because Jeff had been told when he first started here that while the Collective had the sole rights to the neural transceivers (besides the military, they were still allowed to use them) they did not have access to the nanomachine technology. That technology had not been declassified yet, so the transceivers had to be implanted the old fashioned way: brain surgery. Jeff hadn't done any operations in years; he was sure his skills had atrophied from disuse and implanting a transceiver was a really _really_ delicate process. Jeff had been told that a brain surgeon in the Army had drank the nanite cocktail and so should be able to implant the devices safely. Jeff was suspicious that anyone besides himself could perform the operation (past experience taught him that) but would admit that if anyone else could do it, it was someone on the neural network. After the press conference tomorrow, Jeff had the feeling the Collective was going to get a lot a media attention and it would not be good if their surgeon lobotomized the first group of people that volunteered to get implanted. Luckily, the surgeon was one of the people whose contracts with the military ended at the end of this year so the man could join the Collective quickly and start practicing. Jeff imagined that there would probably be a six month period before anyone worked up the nerve to ask to be implanted after the announcement hit the airwaves.

**Borg Collective Headquarters December 20, 2038 AD**

The press conference was not going like Jeff had expected. When preparing beforehand, he made sure to learn as much about how the Collective had accomplished these math solutions as possible because Jeff thought that was what the reporters would be most interested in. Hilbert published his problems in over a hundred years ago in 1900, while some of them had already been solved (some were only partially solved) the Collective had managed to solve all of them, that should be big news. Instead, the reporters cared more about the neural transceivers.

It wasn't that Jeff disliked talking about how much of a genius he was for creating the transceivers, he was just annoyed he spent all that time reading up on Hilbert's problems so that he could talk about them instead of something he was already an expert on. A small (very small) part of him felt guilty talking almost exclusively about his own accomplishments when this press conference was supposed to be about what the Collective has accomplished...but they'll get over it.

"Dr. Borg Dr. Borg! You seriously expect us to believe us that you single-handedly invented a device that allows for instant telepathy?" a reporter from the back shouted at Jeff.

"Actually, I expect you to take the facts I'm presenting to you and spin them in such a way to present a biased view for your viewers that your bosses will approve of. You are a member of the world's second oldest profession after all." That brought a couple chuckles from assembled reporters.

A rather manly female reporter in the front row cut in before the first one could respond, "Dr Borg, with the exception of yourself, all employees at the Collective have been implanted with the transceivers. Why is that?"

The woman may have looked like she was released from prison two days ago, but Jeff liked her. Every question she had asked had been without disbelief or malice. Her questions had all been straight-forward and seemed like their only purpose was to gain information for her audience. "You seem to have things slightly backwards. It's not that only people with my neural transceivers work at the Collective; it's that the Collective was founded by people with my transceivers. It's only been about two years since the company was started. Besides myself, they haven't needed to bring in any new employees."

"You're saying that you're just an employee at the Collective? That you didn't help start the company?"

Jeff laughed. "Yes. Despite the fact that it bears my name, I actually have no control over what the company does. Everyone else is an owner, I'm just an employee."

"Dr. Borg, while solving Hilburg's problems is...interesting to some people out there...somewhere, I'm sure most viewers are more curious about the Collective itself. I checked their website before coming here and I have to admit, I have no idea what it is the company actually does," said a Hispanic reporter. The man may have lacked any accent but Jeff noticed he didn't get Hilbert's name correct...then again Jeff wasn't very good with names either so he would let that one go.

"Within ten years, the Collective aims to be the leading researcher in numerous technological fields and we hope to expand to the point in which we will be able to manufacture our own products instead of licensing them out so that we can maintain a high level of quality control."

The manly reporter cut in again. "Dr. Borg, I was reviewing my notes from what you said earlier when you were explaining how the neural transceivers worked. You discussed how they allowed such a transfer of memories and knowledge to the point that it's almost like an individual could inhabit multiple bodies. Basically, you've created neurological cloning. Care to comment?"

"You are as correct as you are butch, my dear, though your conclusion is rather limited. By exchanging knowledge, people with my neural transceivers have their thoughts preserved. Should enough people continue to get implanted and join the 'neural network,' as we've taken to calling it, they will essentially be immortal. Bodies will eventually die but once in the network, you shall continue to live on." That got the reporters attention, every single one of them started shouting at Jeff trying to get their individual question.

Jeff decided to pick his favorite reporter since she would have the most thought out question of anyone gathered here. "After an announcement like that Dr. Borg, I think everyone gathered here as well as everyone watching at home has the same question: When can I get implanted and are there any side effects?"

Jeff decided to, for once, pick his words carefully. He didn't want to lie (that would just come back to bite him in the ass later) but the whole change of personality and desire to remain with the group was certainly a touchy subject in the military so it was sure to be one with civilians. "Getting implanted with a neural transceiver is a very dangerous operation, even when done by a skilled brain surgeon. To date, I am the only one who has successfully implanted a transceiver in someone. So that will create a bottleneck problem if too many people want to get a transceiver. There is also the issue of the Collective getting sufficient funding to build the transceivers, they aren't cheap I assure you. Plus, they have exceedingly stringent requirements for how they are constructed. That is why we want to expand the company to a manufacturing plant, so that we can oversee the build process. To answer the second part of your question, there is a possible side effect. After joining the neural network, people become...well addicted to the constant connection. They enjoy sharing thoughts; they love the intimacy of having someone touch their mind. I have yet to see anyone willing disconnect from the neural network."

"What aren't you telling us? If these neural transceivers are so great why don't you have one?" one of the reporters asked angrily.

Jeff had to chuckle at the man's stupidity. "There are two reasons for that. The first one being is that since I invented them it was my job to oversee their development and figure out what the next moves should be throughout the project's life-cycle. Therefore, I needed to be able to stay a step removed, I couldn't get too involved. Secondly, and this is important, if I'm the only one who can perform the operation to implant the transceivers, how would I get one? I don't know if you've ever attempted brain surgery before, but I have, and let me tell you that it is difficult under the best circumstances. Operating on myself would have been the equivalent to attempting repairs on a NASCAR racer while it was still driving on the course." Jeff took a lot of pleasure at the way the man appeared to deflate as the other reporters laughed at him. He would have liked to berate the man some more but Jeff noticed one of the Collective employees standing the way back of the crowd gesturing at her watch, apparently the press conference had gone on long enough.

Jeff raised his arms to silence the reporters and loudly proclaimed, "Ladies, gentlemen (and morons) on behalf of my employers, I thank you for coming out to this engagement. The Borg Collective is sure to make waves in multiple industries in the future so we enjoy getting this chance to talk with you before we become heavy hitters. No doubt you will be hearing many things from us very soon."

As Jeff stepped away from the crowd assembled at the front of the Collective's gated compound he started to wonder, how did they convince so many reporters to show up? Until this press conference, the Collective hadn't done anything newsworthy really. There had been an article published in the local newspaper when the Collective had purchased the compound, apparently it used to be the central headquarters some big tech company that made security software. They (and many other security software companies) went under eight years ago when an implanted research team in the Army finished development on a smart program that could hop from computer to computer to hunt down viruses. Apparently the thing was capable of tracking programs back to the computer they started on and notifying the police (with so much commerce occurring online, most countries now considered writing dangerous code the equivalent to building a rocket launcher in your backyard). But beyond getting the entire compound for less than a new car cost, the Collective hadn't done anything newsworthy until this announcement, and since they hadn't told the reports what the announcement was about Jeff had to wonder what prompted so many people to show up. Was it really that slow of a news day? Whatever the reason, Jeff decided it wasn't worth thinking about.

As he stepped through the gate, Jeff admired the amount of work the Collective put into making the compound look so nice. Pristine, uniformly cut grass covered most of the land owned by the company. There were a nice variety of trees, both in height and in species. It reminded Jeff of a stereotypical college campus; it almost seemed too perfect, too neat. Considering that people on the neural network preferred function over form, he wasn't really sure why they spent so much time making the compound look so nice. Maybe they had consulted some marketers and had been told to make the compound look inviting so more people would want to get implanted?

The woman who had notified Jeff of the time limit at the press conference jogged up behind him. "Dr. Borg, we believe that went well."

"Yes, I think so as well. We will certainly get a lot of people's attention now that the neural transceivers are going to be on tonight's news. And that was exactly what you all wanted, isn't it? Attention so that you can get funding so that you can expand the network?"

"Indeed Dr. Borg. Until we receive sufficient financial backing, we are limited in what we can accomplish. Now that we have gathered attention due to our math prowess and your genius in creating the neural transceivers, we should be able to get a good deal when attempt to market the operating system we created."

Jeff's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "You created an operating system? Do you really think we can compete against Microsoft and Apple? Not to mention Linux."

"We created Kraven to track down computer viruses and their creators making it the most effective program ever created to do that job, why would we not be able to create an equally effective operating system?"

"It's just...the Collective has only been in existence for what? Two and a half years now? And you guys managed to create an entire operating system?"

"Exactly, we had two whole years to create an operating system." she said slowly. Jeff had the feeling that the two of them had vastly different opinions of what could be done in two years.

**Borg Collective Headquarters January 12, 2041 AD**

The Collective ended up selling the operating system to Google, a deal which worked out quite well for both companies. Because Google had so much goodwill built up among its customers (and the Collective designed the operating system to be compatible with programs designed for Windows) that after only a year just over 10% of all computers were using Google LCARS. Not only did the Collective receive a very large amount of money for selling the operating system, but Google then hired the Collective to continue to provide software updates for it.

The agreement with Google was only one of the numerous lucrative moves the Collective had made in the past two years. One of the soldiers from the second batch that Jeff had originally implanted knew how to count cards. The Collective had decided to expand on that hobby of his and would routinely send teams of ten to twenty people to Las Vegas for a weekend to win at blackjack (sometimes poker but that usually didn't bring in as much money). People would occasionally get banned but it never mattered much since the Collective could just send different employees the next time around. They would routinely bring back several thousand dollars each trip.

They had also created three different video game engines, which ended up with the names Aeolipile, Thomas, and Difference, for some reason. Jeff had thought that whole process was a waste of time but apparently the engines were very stable and very easy to use so the Collective was able to license them out to numerous companies. Not exactly how he would have generated revenue but then again it brought in a decent of money considering how quickly they had been created.

The Collective had somehow figured out a way to create transparent aluminum but at the time of its discovery had no actual use for it. What Jeff had found interesting about the situation was that it had all been theoretical, the Collective never actually tested to see if the formal they devised would work. Yet, they were still able to sell the formula to some company in San Francois called Plexicorp in exchange for 49% of the company's stock.

There was also the Orexin-A drug, which the Collective ended up selling to Starbucks for a couple million dollars. Jeff had actually heard of that one before, it was an anti-sleep drug that had apparently had no side effects or addictive qualities. He just wasn't sure how the Collective could sell the formula to anyone since it had already been discovered and was in development by several pharmaceutical companies. Maybe the Collective thought up a variation on the drug's formula that was different enough to satisfy the patent office. However they did it, it wasn't his problem so long as it didn't come back to bite them in the gluteus maximus.

As more military employment terms expired each year, the Army found itself losing a lot of its best scientists to the Collective. So they decided to simply contract the Collective to assist in various research projects. Being the only employee in the public relations department, Jeff was given brief overviews of some (not all) of the projects the military had them working on so that he could issue press releases to keep the Collective in the good graces of the American public consciousness. Some of the projects Jeff found rather interesting (bomb sniffing bees), others he thought were useful but boring (the ISIS was a self-sustaining surveillance blimp), some were badass (a satellite that could drop telephone pole-sized tungsten rods that struck with the force of a tactile nuke), and others he thought were just stupid (remote controlled exploding Frisbees).

When the news had hit the airwaves two years ago that the neural transceivers essentially allowed for cerebral immortality, interest in the company skyrocketed. The Collective became the hot new thing to talk about. Numerous senior citizens began flocking to the Collective compound (it wasn't until that point that Jeff understood why the Collective had insisted on buying a walled in compound) attempting to get the employees attention in hope of getting implanted. Demand far exceeding supply so the Collective had decided to do what any smart business owner would do in that situation: raise prices. They raised prices to the point that some people were taking out multiple mortgages on the homes to pay for the operations.

Through the various methods the Collective had at its disposal, they were able to build a manufacturing plant and work out the logistics that would (hopefully) produce enough neural transceivers to satisfy all the people that wanted them once construction was finished next month (and they could then lower prices to get even more people on the network). It turned out that the implanted brain surgeon was able to successfully put transceivers in people so the pressure wasn't on Jeff, and if one person on the neural network could do it then that meant they all could so that problem had been solved.

One of the people who had been interested in getting implanted was the current Sultan of Brunei, Hassanal Bolkiah. Until the Sultan, the richest person with an implant only had a little over a million dollars to her name. Now, the Collective had access to the Sultan's entire net-worth, valued at 25 billion (with a B) dollars by _Forbes_ magazine last year. While the Collective hadn't touched any of his money, it was still nice to have that available should a situation arise. Then again, the man was 94 years old; they probably wouldn't have access to his money for too much longer.

Jeff had actually thought that implanting the Sultan was a bad idea from a public relations perspective (he thought it was a great idea from a financial perspective). Despite the goodwill the company built up via its work with Google, its video game engines, and its work alongside the US Army, the Collective was still unpopular with large segments of the population. Supposedly, the Sultan had been a devote Muslim (Jeff figured if that had been true he wouldn't have wanted the implant) and many religious groups found the idea of computer based immortality an abomination. Implanting a religious figure that was also the head of a country was definitely going to alienate people and make them suspicious. Hell, if nothing else the Collective could go down in history as something that the Israelis and Palestinians agreed on. On some days, the religious protesters outside the Collective compound outnumbered the senior citizens.

Then there were the people that hated the Collective because of the loss of individuality the transceivers caused. That group had remained small until several family members of implantees came forward about the personality changes in their loved ones, which brought a lot of media attention. Nothing like crying wives and parents to gain viewers. While Jeff thought the religious protesters were stuck with an archaic belief system that hindered scientific progress and rational thought, he at least understood why they were doing what they did. He did not understand the second group. People chose to get implanted and were told of the possible side effects. Were they not adults? Could they make their own decisions or did they have to consult with every family member first?

While the negative publicity wasn't having much effect on the Collective financially, it was hurting their recruitment efforts. The vast majority of the people that wanted to get implanted were elderly folks that were fearful of dying. Despite all the technological advances the Collective had made, there wasn't a huge influx of scientists wanting to get implanted. Despite solving all of Hilbert's Problems, there wasn't a huge influx of mathematicians wanting to get implanted. Despite the Collective's work with Google and video games, there wasn't a huge influx of nerds wanting to get implanted.

Jeff sat in his office puffing on a cigarette, reflecting on all the Collective had accomplished in the past two years. Every single week, he had to issue some kind of press release. The Collective wanted him putting out something newsworthy every week to keep the good things the company did in the forefronts' of people's minds. Things had stabilized over the past two months. The protesters had quieted down and with the manufacturing plant almost done, Jeff had decided to announce that the price of the neural transceiver operation would be cut in half once production began. While that had been met with a lot of praise, it didn't solve the issue of who wanted to get implanted. It wasn't the price that was turning people off from getting the operation, polling done by numerous media pundits proved that. The majority of people didn't want to get implanted because of the loss of privacy; they didn't like the idea of everyone on the network being able to know their every thought. It wasn't the change in personality that bothered people. It was the fear that the whole world might find out what porn you liked to watch that kept most people away.

Jeff's current assignment was to come up with something big that the Collective could do that would create a lot of people to seek to get implanted. He had no idea what to do (a rare occurrence for him), his brain was refusing to supply him with possibilities. So he was smoking in his office trying to think of what had been attempted in the past few years for some kind of inspiration to strike. Jeff was a genius, thinking up ways to amuse the plebs so that they would help society move forward shouldn't be his job. Those idiots should thank him for creating the neural transceivers; instead he got mocked by comedians on late night talk shows. Why had he even taken the job? Jeff couldn't get inside the heads of people who barely had enough cranial space to hold a grapefruit, let alone a brain. Besides, it wasn't like he actually needed public goodwill to implant a neural transceiver. The addictive nature of the transceivers meant that once they were implanted no one ever wanted to remove them. If he could trick people into getting them, problem solved...actually...that wasn't a bad idea. Jeff was the smartest man on the planet, if he thought something was a good idea, what did these yokels know? If they disagreed with him clearly they weren't smart enough to take care of themselves. It was his duty as the greatest scientific mind in the modern era to guide society towards its future.

OK, now he had something to work towards, this was more in line for what Jeff was accustomed to. How could he trick a bunch of slack-jawed sloped-forehead mouth-breathers into getting brain surgery? Maybe pay them? Jeff was almost positive the Collective was bringing in enough money from all its other ventures to be able to afford that. But no, that situation reeked of desperation. It was too simple, too obvious. Jeff could do better than that. Maybe...offer full college scholarships to inner city youths if they agreed to get implanted? Actually, it could be done under the pretext of testing out the neural transceivers' ability to assist in the learning process by making use of the stored knowledge in the neural network. The Collective even had the perfect excuse for implanting them: viral marketing. When all the students with the implants get straight A's everyone will know why. It's because they had access to a product that helped them study. The Collective would even, if the students wanted, remove the transceivers after the students had received their degrees, free of charge. This way the Collective would get them a wider range of people on the network and would build up positive relations with people since they were just trying to help make sure even the poor got an education.

A thought suddenly occurred to Jeff: for the most part, everyone with a neural transceiver lived in the United States. There were some Europeans but other than that, it was pretty much Americans on the neural network. The Collective had implanted the head of a country; they should make use of that. Sure, it was a small country that had almost no influence on international events and would probably be invaded by China soon, but it was still a country. Maybe the Sultan could start encouraging his military officers to get implanted? It could even be done in the interests of national security, a coup wouldn't be a threat because all the officers would trust one another if they were all implanted. Extend the same offer to remove the transceivers when their service in the military was done and this seemed like a great plan. Give it ten years and the Collective could control that entire country's military.

Jeff put his cigarette out and quickly began typing up his proposal. He was tempted to title it _Screw Public Opinion, They Are Morons Anyway_ but decided to go with something a bit less confrontational _Manipulation of American Metropolitan Juvenescence/Acquisition of Brunei Bureaucratic Combatants_. He was pretty sure the Collective would agree with his plan, they pretty much always did agree whenever he suggested something. At one point Jeff had been worried they were only doing it because they looked up to him but then he remembered that he really was that smart and if he suggested it, they would be stupid not to listen to him.

**Borg Collective Headquarters March 2, 2050 AD**

It was days like today that Jeff truly enjoyed his job. Sure, at times he missed being a researcher. Passing ideas to the science teams that worked at the Collective helped scratch that itch, but it wasn't the same as actually coming up with the ideas and doing the work himself. But then again, doing research didn't allow for certain opportunities that being the public spokesperson for worldwide high-tech company did. Today, Jeff got to go in front of a group of reporters and tell them that, once again, the Borg Collective had invented something that would revolutionize society. The Collective had become an increasingly polarizing subject in the past five years and many reporters and media types were firmly in the anti-Collective camp (although how much of that was simply because they hated dealing with Jeff remains to be seen) so Jeff took particular pleasure in gloating about how much good the Collective was doing so that he could rub it in their faces. And boy, did he need some good news to report considering all the crap that happened in 2045.

Numerous events took place over a couple of months five years ago. The Collective had developed several different prosthetic limbs and organs that were so advanced they could be considered better than most people's organic parts in terms of strength, dexterity, and effectiveness. What's more, the Collective had begun amputating perfectly healthy limbs of some of its employees to replace them with the prosthetic limbs. This caused an uproar amongst the people that hated the neural transceivers for suppressing individuality. Whereas before they were simply a large group of angry citizens seeking to have (mostly) peaceful protests, this act caused many of them to unify and form Humanity Front. Humanity Front was a violent anti-Collective group with the stated goal of keeping humanity "pure." Jeff found it amusing that while the group was comprised of people from a variety of races and social strata, the most vocal members were former inductees of the KKK. The Collective gave the racists something they hated even more than people of color. They would blow up a Collective transport truck now or whip a protesting mob into a frenzy but so far they hadn't done anything too major.

In addition to the limb replacement, another issue that brought about negative reactions from many people was when the neural network reached a sort of critical mass. There were so many people implanted with the transceivers that their personalities went through another shift. Whereas before, anyone implanted had their emotions strongly suppressed but still there, now they all had absolutely no emotion. Everyone on the neural network no longer smiled or frowned. They all had blank expressions on their faces and thought in much more logical terms now. This ended up outing many people who had had their neural transceivers installed secretly which sent shock-waves around the globe because most people didn't realize just how many people had gotten implanted.

Things were especially bad in Brunei where the majority of people in charge had already been discreetly implanted; several lower ranking officers in the army ended up attempted a coup. It failed, but as punishment every one of the attempted traitors was implanted with a neural transceiver. That would have made Jeff's job really hard except the story never made it out of Brunei. Here he was trying to make the transceivers seem like something you want to purchase for yourself, and here another country was using it in place of execution. What's more, once the Collective realized that people weren't terribly upset about it (Jeff thought they were just scared of the government cracking down on them), they abolished the death penalty in Brunei and replaced it with being permanently implanted with a neural transceiver.

The main problem for Americans was the utter lack of emotion implanted people displayed. It was unsettling to any non-implanted person they interacted with (even Jeff found it a little odd at first). The slang term of 'drones' had been given to anyone with a transceiver because they were as emotional as ants or bees; the Collective was just a hive that they belonged to (even the ones that didn't actually work for the Collective were still seen as a part of it). While intended to be derogatory, the Collective had decided to start using the term because they thought it was accurate. Everyone with a neural implant now referred to themselves as a drone, despite Jeff pointing out that most people still viewed it as a bad thing, accurate or not.

Another problem that sprang up in 2045 was when a report by the United States government ended up on WikiLeaks. The report made the observation that the Collective had so many highly trained retired commandos in its employee it could take out the government of any third world country on the planet. It went on further to recommend that these commandos should be hired as a paramilitary group by the government just so no other groups attempted to hire them. While it was generally well known that the Collective was founded by a group of people who had been in the military, it wasn't until this report was released that people seemed to realize that just because someone retired from the military didn't mean they immediately forgot how to use a gun. Jeff had found that entire situation annoying because the Collective wouldn't have taken the offer anyway, mercenary work did absolutely zero to improve a company's image (Blackwater and DynCorp proved that). Yet, he had to go on all sorts of news shows to assure people that no, the Collective were not guns-for-hire and wouldn't attempt to overthrow any countries. Just because they had a lot of highly trained killers at their disposal didn't mean the Collective actually wanted to make use of them. And, _of course_, shortly after Jeff finished the media tour someone smuggled footage out of Brunei showing that the majority of military officers and numerous high ranking government officials (including the entire royal family) had been implanted with neural transceivers. Jeff didn't believe in coincidences or God, but he came real close to doing so after that particular incident. He then had to go on all the damn news shows again to explain that those people willing got implanted. The Collective was a business that sold a product and the numerous Bruneians decided to buy said product. Considering it only cost about as much as a slightly used car to get a neural transceiver nowadays, Jeff didn't know why it was strictly the upper class of Brunei that were getting implanted.

All that negative publicity was in the past because very shortly Jeff would make an announcement that would change the world. The Collective, through the use of a football field sized machine dubbed Phlebotinum, had discovered a way to create nuclear fusion. This was the Holy Grail of energy. This discovery would solve the entire world's energy problems. This was going to have a big BIG impact on global politics.

Ten years ago, there were only two oil producing nations left in the western hemisphere: Canada and the United States. All the countries in Central and South America (and the various islands in the Caribbean) had already been annexed to become states under the control of the American government. When the Canadian economy took a hit from a subprime mortgage crisis, the American government had quickly sent in troops to help quell riots. Jeff wasn't sure of the details but somehow Canada ended up becoming the one hundredth and first United State of America in 2042. Given how often rebellions sprang up and had to be put down, the US military pulled out of pretty much every location not in the western hemisphere to better protect its own interests. China (apparently in an attempt to emulate America) decided that acquiring land under the guise of helping was a much better idea than flat out invasion so some Chinese commandos blew up the Kaaba in Saudi Arabia. This angered so many Muslims that riots broke out all over the world. The Islamic riots gave China (and India to a lesser extent) an excuse to move into the Middle East to provide stability. Considering how many smaller countries had been gobbled up by superpowers over the past two decades, Jeff was amazed that most of the smaller Pacific Island countries had remained independent. He guessed it was due to China, India, and Japan constantly fighting their three-way proxy war of control. If any of the countries started gaining control of any countries, the other two would move in to stop it. But all that would stop now. Once the news of cost-effective nuclear fusion got released, many of the world's superpowers would have no financial reason to control a lot of the land they currently occupied.

Jeff paced in the green room, waiting it to be three o'clock so he could walk onstage and present the news to the reporters. He was glad the Collective had decided to build a press room. If the President of the United States had one in the White House, Jeff ought to have one too. After all, he was at least important as the President, if not more so. He was currently debating whether or not he should walk out there and laugh manically. OK, so it was only ever done by supervillains by it was sure to be therapeutic after all the nonsense Jeff had to put up with from the reporters over the years. The only other non-implanted person that worked for the Collective looked up at Jeff from the chair where he had been napping.

"Dr. Borg, walking back and forth isn't going to make time move any quicker so why don't you just relax man. Take a chill, dude." Thurgood Jenkins was a complete moron; Jeff did not understand why the Collective had chosen to hire him, of all the people that applied for the job. Yes, the Public Relations Department needed another person since Jeff couldn't be everywhere but really...Thurgood? The stoner was who had been hired, not the marketing executive from Coca Cola noooooo, the stoner. Even more confusing was how the man had managed to hold down this job for over a year now. He dressed like he was on vacation in Hawaii and always smelled like cannabis, not to mention his manner of speaking was just so annoying.

"Look you incompetent layabout, you need to appreciate the magnitude of what it is that I am about to do! I am going to go out onto that stage and give a speech that will change the course of human history. Cheap, efficient energy! Fossil fuels will be a thing of the past! No more wars for oil! How can you be so calm when I am about to prove all those reporters out there wrong when they made claims that the Collective was the living embodiment of the anti-Christ?"

"Because you're the gay sea otter dude, not me." Thurgood responded while staring at the ceiling.

"I...uh...what?"

"You're going to blow all of them out of the water. You're the one giving that speech, not me. So why should I get worked up over it?"

"...your analogy appears to have temporarily shut down multiple neural pathways in my brain. I'm going to need a minute before I can think properly." Jeff walked over to the chair opposite of Thurgood and promptly collapsed into the seat.

"Ya see Dr. Borg, your brain is a like a car. It runs fine when you take care of it, but if you decide to suddenly take it off roading in Colorado when its only ever driven in downtown Malibu, its libable to break down on you. You gots to ease into taking it off road. Buy it proper tires and such. I have an uncle that owns a Ford Dealership outside of Los Angeles, tell him I sent you and he'll give you a good deal on tires."

When talking with most people, it was Jeff who could go on and on with the other person having no idea what the conversation was about. This was a rare exception where Jeff was utterly clueless as to what was going on. "Thurgood...what are you talking about?"

"I don't know man, I don't know."

Jeff put his head in his hands and let out a long groan but quickly sat up straight when someone knocked on the door. "Please, come in! Is it 3 o'clock yet?"

The man that walked in could barely be described as such. His left arm was a jumble of gears and tubes with a hand big enough to encircle a basketball. His right arm looked far more normal, other than the fact that it didn't end it a hand; instead it had a several different nozzles poking out of the wrist. Judging from the various bumps that were visible underneath his shirt, the man must have also had numerous cybernetic implants in his torso. The most noticeable change to the man's physic was that he had three robotic legs, which gave him an unusual gait as he walked into the room. The man's head didn't look like a head; it looked like a junkyard had taken a dump on his shoulders. Jeff couldn't see a mouth, eyes, or anything that could be recognized as belonging to a human's face. Yet, a rather pleasant voice originated from somewhere in the mass of metal that protected the brain as he spoke, "Greetings Dr. Borg, Mr. Jenkins. It is now time for your speeches. Dr. Borg shall go first, and then Mr. Jenkins can give his speech."

"Awesome, tripod man. Once the good doctor tells people about the nuclear power, I can drop my bomb...not that I'd drop a bomb. Bombs are dangerous. I might blow myself up or something. Tripod, make a note to the Collective, I am not allowed to handle bombs."

"Noted."

"Thurgood, shut up. And you!" Jeff said pointing at the cyborg "Don't encourage him. Now, let's go make history." Jeff and Thurgood got up from their chairs and followed Tripod out of the green room. As they walked to the doorway that led to the stage Jeff took some deep breaths. He was really regretting quitting cigarettes right now. When Jeff's doctors had told him he might have lung cancer the Collective had immediately sunk two years worth of their cybernetic research budget into developing and building a new set of lungs for him. The growths turned out to be benign but the whole situation had scared Jeff into giving up tobacco. Still, it was nice to know he had an extra set of lungs waiting for him if his original set ever gave out.

Tripod opened the door the press room and Jeff stepped through, with Thurgood following behind him. Jeff ignored the reporters as they started shouting questions at him. Thurgood took a seat at the chair stage left of the podium as Jeff sorted his note cards before tapping the microphones to quiet the reporters down.

"Assembled simpletons and cretins, I hate you all. You have never bothered to quote me in context and have constantly portrayed the Collective has something Hitler would create if brought back to life. So allow me to show you my true feelings towards everyone gathered here." With that Jeff lifted both of his arms high and proceeded to show both his middle fingers to the cameras. After a full minutes Jeff lowered his arms and began speaking again. "No doubt, many of the people at home watching this think I am being a conceited dickhead. They are only half right, because I was being conceited. You see, I am allowed to be arrogant because I am one of two public spokespersons for a company that has just changed the trajectory of human development. The Collective has found a way to create nuclear fusion. Some people watching this are unaware of the significance of this discovery, mainly because they decided 6th grade was good enough and they didn't need another six years when there were so many sheep that needed loving. To those people I say this: baaaa means no. Also: once the proper infrastructure is built, your energy bill will be slightly above zero. With nuclear fusion, the same way the Sun creates energy I might add, we can create so much power for so little effort that the biggest cost will simply be upkeep of the lines taking the power to you. Goodbye oil. Goodbye coal. Goodbye all that ineffective green crap. Hello thermo-nuclear fusion, courtesy of the Collective. You're welcome human race. Any questions from the charlatans gather here today?"

Whether it was from the shock of announcement or Jeff's sheer ballieness in which he delivered it, none of the reporters said anything. They just stared at the stage. Jeff looked at the sea of faces, enjoying the various levels of disbelief written across the crowd. "Well then, I shall turn the podium over to my coworker, Thurgood Jenkins." Thurgood got up as Jeff walked over to the door. He was planning on leaving but realized he had never actually seen Thurgood do any work before, so this might be entertaining. Plus he didn't actually know what Thurgood's announcement was. Jeff could have asked anyone in the Collective but up until this very moment hadn't really cared.

"Hehe alright. Greeeetings and salutations. I am Thurgood Jenkins. When it comes time for questions, you are allowed one Leroy joke. Now then, for my talking points. First off, Dr. Borg was telling the truth. We have lots and lots of energy. More energy than my aunt Selma after her fourth espresso shot in the morning. And her sister Patti can attest that that is a lot of energy man. Second, I am announcing our partnership with GE to supply that energy to Americans. We are looking forward to all the good things this partnership will bring...but uh...it's platonic OK? Nothing gay going on with GE, we don't swing that way. Well, Dr. Borg might, I've never seen him with a woman. Which is weird because he is a sexy man. That salt-and-pepper hair of his? Damn fine. Plus, he's always clean-shaven so ladies don't have to worry about beard burn."

Jeff wasn't sure if he should be amusing or horrified. Thurgood was just as big of an idiot on stage as he was off stage. Compared to him, Jeff was a government sanctioned diplomat. On the other hand, Thurgood had apparently come out of the closet while attempting to get Jeff a date on international television.

"OK, where was I? Oh right, second. We are working with GE to bring power to Americans. At the moment we are focusing on creating the infrastructure for North America, but we hope to move southward within three...ish years. Fourth, the Collective has had a space program for several years now. We've launched several satellites and even sent a doggie up there. I do miss Krypto. Well, thanks to our recent power discovery, it is suddenly a lot easier to send a rocket up. Nuclear powered rockets cut the fuel costs in half. Instead of costing $24,000 a kilogram, now it only costs about $12,000. We actually have successful sent people up there last week, who have returned safely. It was fun; I only threw up twice...going up. I threw up three times while up there and once more on the trip back. Starting next month, we will began research into a rocket that better uses the power of the fusion reactor. So, any of you goobers got some questions for me? And remember the Leroy rule."

Jeff was almost sort of impressed. Thurgood managed to stay on topic for that part of his speech, even if he did say two twice and apparently skipped over three. The reporters seemed to have finally recovered from Jeff's speech to realize they should ask some questions.

A reporter in the front row hesitantly asked "Mr. Jenkins, when Dr. Borg talked about how we could forget oil and coal because of nuclear fusion, is that true?"

"No. Well, not exactly. Maybe. Probably. Nuclear fusion works so much more betterer than other energy sources that it is so much cheaper to buy our energy instead of buying energy from...not us. Once we get the car maker people to use our technology, you won't need to fill up the gas tank every week. You'll only need to...uh, buy our energy once a...longer period.

"Mr. Jenkins, considering how closely tied the Collective is to the US military, do you find it at all suspicious that this discovery was made only after Canada was forcefully annexed into the United States for its oil?" A rather angry looking woman asked.

"That was, like, years ago lady. Like more than several. When it's been that many years it goes from suspicious coincidence to...stuff. It happened. Canada joined the US, we discovered nuclear fusion. Way back when, the United States had the Revolutionary War against England then we discovered peanut butter. Simple as that."

The angry reporter didn't seem to know how to respond and so she sat down in her chair in a daze, and suddenly Jeff understood why the Collective had hired Thurgood. The man didn't get angry, didn't get upset, even when confront with a clearly biased reporter. Thurgood just acted the same as he always did, utterly nonsensical until the reporter would have to give up. So that was why Jeff had been given no one-on-one interviews with reporters known to dislike the Collective since Thurgood had been hired. He would have to buy Thurgood a drink later. Seeing as how many of the gathered reporters had rather pensive looks on their faces as they tried to make sense of Thurgood's rambling, Jeff figured now would be a good time to duck out. Motioning for Tripod to open the door to the hallway, Jeff walked out of the room.

As Jeff walked back to his office he couldn't help but think about what Thurgood had said. The Collective had created a reliable atmospheric exit rocket? This really was big news, especially since it was a private company and not NASA that had done it. Granted, at the moment they could only float around in orbit, but still, legitimate space travel to the Moon couldn't be that far behind. Then again, what purpose was there to building a colony on the Moon? Tourism certainly, but was there any other reason? Scientific testing in low gravity environments was the only other thing that was coming to Jeff's mind. It wasn't like the Moon had a lot of rare minerals that could be mined; most were just as easily found on Earth.

Jeff had to admit he was surprised that when the Collective figured out nuclear fusion, space travel was what they decided to apply that power to. It made some sense, 90% of a rocket's weight was in the fuel so the switch to nuclear fusion should make space travel financially viable. Still, space travel wouldn't have been Jeff's first thought when attempting to think of what to improve with nuclear fusion on. Jeff did wonder what would have come of the Collective space program if nuclear fusion hadn't been discovered. Yes, they had sent up a dog (considering the dog had been named Baxter and that it had safely made it back to Earth, Jeff had no idea what Thurgood had been talking about when he mentioned Krypto) as well as several communication satellites to increase the transmission speed of the neural network, but there hadn't been any attempts to make money off of it until now. Regardless, Jeff looked forward to seeing where things went from here.

**Author's Note:** _The amount of research I've had to do the past week to make sure the science works is far more than I ever expected. My story outline had warp drives being created this chapter until I realized that impulse drive should be created first. So when I looked up how impulse drives worked I found out they were powered by nuclear fusion, so I had to go research that. The more I learned about that the more I realized I would have to alter my story plans because its such a big deal in terms of how much energy can be put out with that. Because of that, I have no idea when the next chapter will be done. On the plus side, this is my longest chapter yet._


	5. Chapter 5: The Powder Keg

**Author's Note: **_I made a slight change to the last chapter regarding the nuclear powered spaceship. Nothing major, but I realized that I was reducing the cost far too much for a first generation invention._

**The Powder Keg**

**Borg Collective Headquarters November 3, 2059 AD**

Thurgood had known Jeff for almost a decade now and he still did not have a proper grasp of what the good doctor thought of him. At times Dr. B would be all, "Thurgood, my fine colleague, I do believe you to be the finest human being I have ever had the pleasure of working with," and yet other days he was like, "LOUD NOISES! I am yelling at you!" Jeff was just a strange, strange man, his mood swings were more unpredictable than a teenager on her first period. At first Thurgood had thought it was because Jeff was tripping on some truly epic drugs, but when Thurgood had asked him to share, Dr. Borg had said he wasn't taking anything. Either Jeff was lying so he could hoard the drugs for himself or he really was sober all the time. Thurgood wasn't sure which one he found more depressing. Probably being sober. Thurgood wouldn't wish that on anyone. Even people on death row deserved a good mind altering drug at least once. Actually...

"Hey! Muffin Man!"

The door to Thurgood's office opened and a drone stepped inside. With the exception of the cybernetics that made its head resemble a giant metal muffin (hence Thurgood's nickname for it) this drone had no noticeable augmentations. "Yes Mr. Jenkins What can we do for you?"

"I just had an idea for a law we should lobby governments to pass."

"What law would that be?"

"...I don't remember."

"Very well Mr. Jenkins."

"I will let you know if I think of it."

"Of course, this drone shall remain outside if you need us."

"Right on Muffin Man," and with that the drone stepped out into the hallway and closed the door.

Damn, what was the idea he had? Thurgood was sure it was a good one. He should check his calender, see if he had some upcoming conferences. That was probably what the law was about, some new thing he was supposed to tell people about. Thurgood spun his chair around to face his iWall. Apple products used to be out of his price range but ever since he started working for the Collective, he was getting access to a lot of stuff he never used to, like medical grade LSD. He had tripped major balls on that stuff. The iWall wasn't as good as drugs but it was pretty handy. His bosses could schedule events and Thurgood would see the changes when he walked into his office. It could also be used as a giant video phone, could access the Internet (porn on a high definition screen this big was awesome) and was connected to Thurgood's iTunes account. Thurgood tapped the screen to bring it out of sleep mode and checked to see what he had to do for the next two months.

On Friday, Thurgood would discuss the horrible car accident that almost claimed Dr. Borg's life. Luckily, the Collective managed to get him to one of their hospitals in time to stave off death. Jeff's spine had been badly damaged so he had gotten several cybernetic augmentations throughout his torso and lower body to enable him to retain function of his legs. Thurgood had visited him in the hospital, Jeff had been very glad that the Collective had saved his body rather than deciding to implant him with a neural transceiver to save his brain. It must have been a really bad car wreck if that had been a consideration.

On the fourteenth, Thurgood would be holding a press conference to discuss how the Collective would be fixing the overcrowding problem in American prisons. Somehow, the Collective had convinced the government to institute the Brunei method of punishment: criminals would be forcefully implanted with neural transceivers. When sentenced, the length of time spent in jail would instead be time spent working for the Collective. When their sentence was up, the transceivers would be removed and the convicts could rejoin society. Thurgood found it odd that no one ever chose to leave the Collective and was curious if the criminals would be the first ones to do it. He was sure someone from the ACLU would be at the press conference, ready to do lots of yelling about how the transceivers infringed on the rights of the criminals. Thurgood decided he would need to smoke some extra strength weed before that engagement, might be time to get the pineapple express out of the baggie.

On the twenty first Thurgood was supposed to announce that, due to Canada's peaceful break away from the United States, there would be no delay in the construction of the GE-Collective-TransAlta nuclear fusion power plant outside of Edmonton. When the plant became operational in two year it would be able to supply power to all of Canada as well as Alaska. He was also supposed to announce that because of the rather violent war for independence in Mexico, GE and the Collective would be holding off on building a plant there until the political situation stabilized. Thurgood didn't understand why the government wanted to keep Mexico so bad. Sure, the prices of illegal drugs dropped when Mexico joined the United States but Thurgood doubted that was why the government wanted to keep it as a state. Hell, they let all of South America and most of Central America leave without a problem (Panama remained under United States control) so what was so important about Mexico?

The twenty eighth was Black Friday, so Thurgood was unsurprised to see he had the day off of work. He also didn't have any announcements to make on December fifth because that was when the Collective was flying him to Sweden. On the tenth, he would be accepting a Nobel Prize on behalf of the Collective for their perfection of electric cars. The big problem with nuclear fusion was that it couldn't be scaled down for use in anything smaller than a jumbo jet. For things like automobiles, private airplanes, and personal boats, oil was still needed up until the Collective unveiled their new battery. Thurgood didn't understand how the engine worked exactly, only that the batteries could last for a long time and were rechargeable from any wall socket. Plugging one of the new batteries would have caused electric bills to skyrocket but with the nuclear fusion plants driving power costs down, the increase electricity usage was financially negligible for most consumers. In the two years since new batteries went public, the American government had passed multiple laws requiring the switchover from gas to electric vehicles. Thurgood was surprised with how quickly the whole United States changed cars. At least global warming was no longer a problem, well...it was, but it wasn't the United States fault. Now it was Asia's fault for refusing to move over to battery powered engines just because it would cost a lot to get rid of all their gassy cars.

According to the calender, Thurgood was given tentative plans to announce the successful testing of psycho-history on the twelfth of December. The Collective had done this once before when they had told him to announce that they had successfully implanted neural transceivers in a pod of dolphins. Somehow, dolphins were supposed to help them fly in space better. Didn't make any sense to Thurgood but a couple days before the press conference the Collective had changed their mind (or was it minds?) and told him to announce an increase in scholarship opportunities. Guess this meant they were worried the announcement of psycho-history might not be too popular. Wait...what in the name of Bob Marley was psycho-history? The history of an Alfred Hitchcock movie? Had the Collective discovered the secret oral traditions of the Pre-emptive Stealthy Yukon Crisis Hit-men Organization? Thurgood always knew that Canadians couldn't possibly be as well off as they were without having some kind of military. Suddenly it all made sense now, the reason no one ever attacked Canada wasn't because they were right next to the United States, it was because they had a highly trained squad of killers based out of the Yukon Territory. It was so obvious, how hadn't anyone noticed before? Hold on a minute...that didn't make any sense, Yukon started with a U not a Y. Eh, whatever. Someone would tell him what it meant eventually.

Then on the ninetieth...nuts. It was one of those really boring press conferences. Thurgood would have to talk about the Collective's buyout of Time Warner and how they wouldn't require all their new employees to become drones, Plexicorp's decision for a stock split, the Collective's opinion on the recent corporate welfare bill being discussed in Congress, and other things that were sure to create a snooze-fest. Might need to break out those mushrooms the Collective had brought back from the Amazon to make it through that conference.

The next week Thurgood had off seeing as how it was Christmas. Well, that was fun. It was nice checking to see what his schedule for the next two months would be. It gave Thurgood a sense of purpose, knowing he was working hard at his job when other less fortunate people were doing things like doctoring or lawyering. Was it lunchtime yet? Eleven thirty...close enough. With tremendous effort, Thurgood got up out of his chair. Those Tempur-Pedic chairs were just so comfy, you never wanted to get out of them. They tended to really absorb odors though, Thurgood's smelled like a combination of sweat and pot. Thurgood walked out of his office and headed down the hallway to the cafeteria, with Muffin Man a few steps behind him. Thurgood like having a personal assistant, though he did find it weird that all Muffin Man did was stand outside his office waiting for whenever he was called. He at least deserved a chair to sit on, or a blunt to smoke...eureka! The law!

Thurgood quickly spun around, "Muffin Man! I remember the law I wanted to tell you about earlier!"

"Yes Mr. Jenkins? What was it?"

"We should try to get a law passed that will allow every drone to get high! Wait...that doesn't seem right."

"The United States legalized recreational marijuana usage in 2020 Mr. Jenkins. If we so wished, any drone could partake in smoking or eating the drug."

"Yea...good point."

"Anything else Mr. Jenkins?"

"Um, no that will be all. So what's the cafeteria serving today?"

"The same thing is serves everyday Mr. Jenkins."

Thurgood let out a long groan. "Why don't you guys ever serve something different? I get tired of this genetically engineered paste. Why can't you serve a nice, greasy burger? Or a deep-fried Twinkie? Or use the recipe for those brownies I gave one of the chefs?"

"Because Mr. Jenkins, those food's are not conductive to a efficient healthy body. The Collective has done numerous tests on a wide range of foods and people. We know what the human body needs. Deep fried Twinkies are not needed."

"But the paste is just so..." Thurgood rubbed his forehead trying to think of the right word. "I've drank bong water that tasted better, let me put it that way."

"Taste was an evolutionary necessity for detecting possible poisons. It is no longer needed and has, in fact, become a hindrance to human development as it causes overeating and thus weight gain."

Thurgood had to, begrudgingly, admit Muffin Man had a point, "You don't have to be so logical."

"If not for logic, humans would be nothing more than intelligent animals."

"HA! You're wrong! The whales at Sea-World are way more intelligenter than some people I know. And those fish don't have any logic, being animals and all according to you."

"...we are at the cafeteria Mr. Jenkins."

Thurgood was in a great mood. It wasn't often he got prove someone on the neural network was wrong. Normally they were way too smart, but it was nice to know that if your brain was al naturale you weren't that far back on the bell curve. Thurgood walked over to stand in line for some food, with his assistant taking the spot him. "Muffin Man, question time."

"What would you like to know Mr. Jenkins?"

"The Collective has created cybernetics that can replace any part of a person's body right?"

"With the exception of the brain and reproductive cells, you are correct. Male sperm cells and female egg cells can be kept alive in cybernetic organs but they lack the ability to create new cells. Once the supply runs out, the patient becomes sterile. The human brain is far too complex to be replicated with current technology. Not even Dr. Borg has been able to design a machine that can hold a human's thoughts."

"What? Then what is with the Collective's advertising? Talking about how people's brain live on forever once they join?"

"As long as they are on the neural network, their thoughts are distributed on it. Once they leave, be it via death or by removal of the neural transceiver, what memories they had up to that point are saved on the network. We can access all their previous thoughts, put no new ones are created."

"You just said a human's brain is too complicated to be on a machine, but then you said the brain is saved on the network. Am I about to prove you wrong twice in one day? That's gotta be like a record or something." Thurgood decided he needed to call the Guinness Book of World Records when he got back to his office and find out what the current record was.

"Mr. Jenkins, the network is not strictly mechanical hardware. Remember, its also consists of organic wetware. Furthermore, things are distributed across the whole network. No central hub exists. With the Collective's current level of technology, we cannot build a single machine that could hold the consciousness of a human and would preserve it and allow it to grow. At best, it would be an imitation of the personality without any ability to grow."

Well that killed Thurgood's mood. Darn drones, couldn't they have explained it better so that he didn't get his hopes up? "Oh...well anyway, back to my question. So if you guys can create cybernetics for any body part, except the brain, then you can create stomachs right?"

"That is a part of the human body that is not the brain so yes, Mr. Jenkins, we have cybernetic stomachs available for purchase by customers that desire one."

"Right, well here is my question: does it have to be in the same place as normal stomachs? Could you, like, put the stomach so that it doesn't connect to the mouth? So that way people could feed themselves by sticking a plug into a wall socket or something? That way you wouldn't need to serve bad tasting food? You serve normal decent-tasting food here and get all your healthy stuff from the power company or whatever?"

"That would not work because...please wait for a moment while we think about your suggestion Mr. Jenkins," Muffin Man said.

Thurgood was surprised. He may have stumped a drone twice in one day after all. Thurgood stuck his hand in the box at the beginning of the food counter and winced as it pricked him, extracting a blood sample. After twenty seconds a drone in the kitchen came forward with a bowl filled with the oh so wonderful paste, specifically tailored for Thurgood based on whatever readings the machine took of his blood. He really wished the Collective would serve some normal food. Sure, Thurgood could have gotten in his car and drive to a restaurant, but that would require effort. Furthermore, that would require money that could be better spent on drugs. The paste may have tasted horrible but it was free.

Thurgood took his bowl and found a table to sit at, and shortly afterward Muffin Man joined him. Thurgood noticed Muffin Man's paste was orange where as his was brick red. He had no idea what that meant, but it was something to occupy his thoughts while forcing the paste down his throat. They both began eating in silence, and Thurgood watched with envy as Muffin Man ate without the slightest grimace or hesitation.

Suddenly, Muffin Man spoke, "Mr. Jenkins, after much debating, we have determined that your suggestion is theoretically possible. It will require testing and numerous cybernetic implants, but it should be possible for a human body to get the sustenance necessary to function without eating anything. Due to your position with the Collective, you cannot be a candidate for the test trials, but once we move out of the prototype phase you may be implanted should you wish."

"I have either had too many drugs today or not enough because I could swear you just told me I was right, again."

"Based on the chemistry report of your blood sample we can safely say that you have had too many drugs. But in response to your statement: your idea has merit and will be researched Mr. Jenkins."

"Well, this is turning into quite the day for me Muffin Man. First, I beat you in the whale argument, and now I've given you an idea on how the power a person. Do you think an extension cord up the butt would work or would that be too simple?"

"...eat your lunch Mr. Jenkins."

**Borg Collective Asclepius Hospital November 3, 2059 AD**

Jeff was glad to be out of the trauma center of the hospital. Looking at all the other injured people, lying in their beds and moaning, was just too depressing. Now he was in the recovery ward, in a private room. Jeff was glad for the peace and quiet, he was sick of various people hobbling over to his bed and trying to talk to him. Being the face and voice of the Collective was damn annoying at times. Currently, he was laying in bed trying to catch up on his reading. He had already plowed through the works of H.P Lovecraft and was halfway done with his collection of Philip K. Dick books. Jeff just wished all the Collective nurses would leave him alone to get his reading done, he was sick of all the physical therapy. The implants worked fine, he could walk, so leave him alone.

To add one more annoyance to his ever-growing list, there was a sudden knock on his door. "I did my Oedipus-ing exercises this morning! I don't need medical attention!"

"Well that's good because I'm pretty sure that I don't have a medical degree." Thurgood said as he walked into the room.

"You're pretty sure? As in you're not 100% certain? How is that possible?" Jeff asked as Thurgood pulled a chair over next to the bed and sat down.

"I drank a lot in college. I'm missing quite a few memories from that time, including my gradation, so I'm not really sure what my degree is in."

Jeff set his iTablet down in his lap in shock. "Wait, you attended college? No wait, you _graduated_ college? And how do you not know what the degree is in? Just look at what is written on the document."

"Yeeeaaa, I sold my degree at a yard sale a couple years ago so I'm not sure where it is now."

"Considering how every time I talk to you, you tell me the dumbest thing I have ever heard, I should really stop being surprised when you tell me something even dumber." Jeff said as he rubbed his forehead.

"What can I say J-man? I'm a surprising guy. Sometimes I even surprise myself. Heck, just the other day I couldn't find my keys, I searched for hours. Turns out, they were in my pocket! Who would have thought, huh?"

"Shouldn't your pocket have been the first place you looked?"

"No way! After the Noodle Incident I never look in my pockets unless I really have to."

"I...uh..._what_?" Jeff didn't know which part of Thurgood's statement left him more confused.

"Hey, speaking of what, what was that thing you shouted at me earlier? Oedipus? Why did you yell that?"

"It's an insult, Thurgood."

"An insult? How so?"

"Because Oedipus was a mother fu-you know what? Its not important." Jeff said with a dismissive wave of his hand. Explaining the insult would take away the fun of shouting it at people.

"Wait, wasn't he the Egyptian God of the Dead?" Thurgood asked after a moment of thought.

"That was Osiris."

"Oh...is it the biggest mountain on Mars?"

"That's Olympus Mons."

"Ah, OK. So it's the disease old people get where their bones get fragile then?"

"Osteoporosis."

"Epic Greek poem written by Homer?"

"Odyssey."

"An alloy commonly found in platinum ore deposits?"

"Osmium."

"The ability of a solvent to move without any input of energy?"

"Osmosis."

"Really old video game about the Mudokon slave?"

"Oddworld. How do you know all of this!"

"I dunno," Thurgood said with a shrug. "I watch a lot of the History Channel."

"That is a bold faced lie. The History Channel has nothing but those stupid reality shows on so I know you can't learn anything from watching it."

"OK OK. Couple months ago, after a night of hard drinking, I woke up to find myself stuck in the vents of some high school. Took me four hours to get out. The teachers' lectures would echo through the vents while I crawled through them.

Jeff let out a long sigh, it was going to be one of those days. "What are you doing here Thurgood?"

"Ah well, you see, interesting story. Earlier this morning I said to myself: 'Steve-

"Steve?"

"Yea, I named myself Steve last night, don't worry I changed it back to Thurgood before I came to work. So anyway, I said to myself: 'Steve, it is time to let that psychic Jewish zombie into your head, he needs brains. So I ate the bread that I stole from some pigeons in the park to get rid of the evil rib lady. But, of course, it didn't work. She was still outside the liquor store asking if I had any money."

Jeff could feel his left eye twitching as he tried to follow Thurgood's story. At this rate his brain would cause him to stroke just so it wouldn't have to listen to this stupidity anymore. Seeing as how Jeff didn't want that to happen he would have to take action. "NURSE! NURSE! I'm readying for my physical therapy!"

"Oh, why didn't you say I was keeping you Dr. B? I'll skip to the point of my story. Do you have any advice for what I should include in the acceptance speech for the Nobel Prize?"

"WHAT? Why would you be making the acceptance speech? I accepted the Nobel Award when the Collective figured out superconductivity! It's the only reason nuclear fusion power is possible! And now you're gonna accept the prize for the new batteries? Why should a Yahoo like you go when there is a Houyhnhnm like me available?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa...whoa. You might rip a stitch shouting like that J-Dawg. The Collective is just worried about your health, they don't want you traveling to Europe when considering all the cybernetics you just had installed. Also, whoa."

"I feel fine! I don't need any special treatment just because some some nimrod decided hit-and-run was a good way to join the Collective!"

"Oh, I didn't know they had tracked him down yet."

"Yea, tried to claim his car had been stolen yet it was miraculously back in his garage when the police showed up to question him. And stop it. No changing the subject! Why should you be the one to accept the Nobel Prize?"

"Weeeeeeeell maybe, just maybe, its because people like me?"

"Huh? What does that have to do with anything?" Jeff asked with genuine puzzlement.

"I watched the video of your acceptance speech. Didn't you tell all the Collective haters that their heads were so small they were responsible for the Hindenburg exploding incident?"

"I told the Collective _skeptics_ that their _brains_ were so small they were covered by the _Heisenberg uncertainty_ _principle_." Jeff said as he rolled his eyes. Thurgood couldn't get anything right.

"Yea that. I don't really understand what that means, but I'm pretty sure it was an insult. Now normally, the Collective doesn't really care when you yell at people. But the Nobel Prizes are kinda a big deal, lots of people pay attention to them. I think they want some good press instead of...stand up comedy."

"Hey, three of my press conferences are in the top ten most viewed videos on Youtube! People love me!"

"People like to watch you shout at reporters and put them in their place. No one likes reporters anymore Jeff. You aren't yelling at reporters during an acceptance speech, you're yelling at everyone who happens to be watching."

Jeff opened and closed his mouth several times before finally deciding what to say. "You know Thurgood, talking to you often makes my brain cells scream in protest at the utter lack of logic in whatever conversation is about. This is one of those rare occasions when talking to you reminds me that you're actually good at your job."

"After the Collective hired me, the dust bunnies that live in my closet made me read up on marketing and public speaking, they wouldn't let me sleep until I proved I could remember what I read. It was hard...hmmm, I haven't seen them since I kicked my Vicodin habit now that I think about it, I hope they're OK. They were harsh taskmasters but they made some really amazing pot roast.

"And we're back to the yelling inside my head."

**Humanity Front Rally, Washington DC March 13, 2060 AD**

Edward "Ned" Ludlam checked to make sure his suit was on straight before climbing the stairs up onstage and walking to the podium. The large crowd assembled at the Mall immediately erupted in shouts and applause. Ned motioned for silence as he got out his note cards. He never liked public speaking and wished he didn't have to do this, but when God calls you for something, you had best answer. Ned had been chosen to drive the cybernetic abominations out of America, he had to expose the truth. The drones weren't human anymore, they gave that up when they joined and now people were being forcibly turned into drones, sure they were violent criminals, but it was only a small step from that for the Collective to start assimilating whoever they wanted.

With a deep breath, Ned began his speech, "My fellow humans, I come before you today as I was when I exited my mother's womb, which is to say: normal. For to willingly hack off perfectly good gifts from the Lord to replace them with the machines of man is unnatural. It would be bad enough if the drones stopped at that, but NO! Now they are forcing people into their Collective, with our government's permission I might add! Some politicians have attempted to pass laws limiting cybernetic implants, but they are clearly the minority if the government is now allowing its own citizens to be turned into cyborgs! This is not a problem you can turn a blind eye to-one to be solved by small concessions. For us, it is a problem of whether our nation can ever recover its health, whether the Borg consciousness can ever really be eradicated. Don't be misled into thinking you can fight a disease without killing the carrier, without destroying the bacillus. Don't think you can fight racial tuberculosis without taking care to rid the nation of the carrier of that racial tuberculosis. This Borg contamination will not subside, this poisoning of the nation will not end, until the carrier themselves, the Borg, have been banished from our midst!"

Normally, Ned wouldn't open a speech with such forceful statements (better to save them for the end), but considering how Humanity Front made any real progress lately, he needed to properly motivate his followers. They needed to understand how important it was that the Collective be shut down.

"It is true that the Collective has made impressive discoveries since its inception. There is no denying that, but who is to say only the Collective could do it? Certainly not I. It was unaltered humans that created the Collective, they did suddenly appear from the ether. Anything they create, Humans can create. So if we can do anything they can, do we even need them? The answer to that is a profound NO! No, we do not need drones. So if we do not need them, why do we tolerate them? It is because we lack the will to do anything. Some people fear them for their emotionless alien-ness, some people want the fake immortality, others are simply apathetic with sin. I am here to tell you, if you accept God's judgement, you will have the determination to purge these heathens from our country!"

A roar arose from the crowd at Ned's words. They were almost intoxicated with the emotion from his speech, hanging on his every word. Ned wondered if this was how Martin Luther King felt during his "I Had A Dream" speech. He was sure to go down in history today, the day when the people of America had enough of being slaves to the godless drones that controlled society.

"You may ask yourself 'what can I do?' so allow me to answer that. Join me in prayer. Once it is done, we shall march to the White House and demand change. The Collective has been secretly controlling the military with their stranglehold of new technology. That is why the government will never do anything against them. Once we storm the seat of the government, they will be forced to listen to us. We shall change this nation, we shall change the world!"

**Author's Note:** _I was kinda disappointed that no one caught onto the various references I included in the last chapter (or at least no one mentioned them). _

_I wanted to say thank you to the several reviewers who have given me ideas which will show up at various points throughout the story. Particularly yog, who has been extremely helpful pointing me towards useful sciencey stuff._


	6. Chapter 6: If At First You Don't Succeed

**Author's Note: **_After being shown mathematic formula explaining why the receiver engine wouldn't work, I went back and changed it to electric batteries. Hopefully, with my new beta reader, I won't have to keep going back and editing chapters after I post them._

**If At First You Don't Succeed...  
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**Borg Collective Headquarters March 19, 2060 AD**

It had been almost a week, and Jeff was still laughing whenever he had time to think about Humanity Front. They were upset that the government was allowing the assimilation of unwilling felons into the Collective, so what did they do? Attempted to overthrow the government, which made them all felons, and thus they all received life sentences to receive neural transceivers. Watching people this stupid fail was pure nirvana. Granted, a lot of people who were captured claimed they weren't trying to overthrow the government, that they were just caught up in the mob. The police didn't seem to accept that argument; the Collective had been called in to quickly assimilate everyone arrested. Hospitals around Washington were overcrowded from all the people getting neural transceivers implanted. Martial law had been enacted in DC since the rally-turned-riot.

Overall, the Human Front rally was turning out quite well for the Collective. In addition to all the new inductees the Collective was gaining, they were getting contacted from police precincts all over the country curious if the Collective's weaponry was available for purchase. When the psychohistory analysis predicted "religious extremism activity against Borg reaching potentially hostile levels along eastern American coast" the Collective was able to extrapolate that the Humanity Front rally would probably be the starting point. The Borg had contacted the DC authorities and explained that a mole of the Collective had informed them of Ned's plans. They had lent the police several Pulsed Energy Projectile weapons, completely non-lethal and very effective at taking out swaths of people. Having plasma explode on your head would make even the most stubborn person stop and roll on the ground in pain. Suddenly, riots no longer seemed like that much of a issue for authorities, and they wanted those guns.

The federal government was quite grateful for the Collective warning them about the rally, none of their informants had found out about Ned's plans. Seems the man was quite secretive and had only told the Collective's spy. This, combined with the amount of time being taken up implanting everyone that had been arrested, had convinced the government to declassify the nanomachines that had been developed so many years ago. Jeff was excited about this. The Collective had informed him that they were actually going to hold off on assimilating people by the nanites (at least publicly) for a while. They were instead going to focus on getting the public used to the idea of nanomachines being part of their lives. Unlike the neural transceivers, the nanites were not going to be limited to the Collective, any company could make use of them. Luckily, seeing as how it was the Collective that was contracted to do the nanite government research, the company had a huge head start when it came to understanding the nanites and knowing ways they could be used. Heck, they didn't even have to be creative. At the moment the Collective was just planning on releasing a bunch of products they had already developed for the military: self repairing paint, miniature water purifies that could clean out just about anything, even virus/bacteria hunting nanites. Humans were about to get a lot more healthy.

Currently, Jeff was wandering around the the gardens outside the Collective's headquarters. He was supposed to think of a way to keep people from getting upset when the Collective went to Africa. The Collective saw the huge population of all those third world countries had potential waiting to be tapped. There were so many people there, if the Collective promised to provide food for a family for five years for every member that joined, they were sure to get a lot of recruits. The only problem was worrying about the political blowback. People would claim the Collective was taking advantage of the Africans' situation. Of course, those same people were content to sit on their hindquarters and not help the Africans if it required any actual commitment on their part. But get angry when someone else helped the Africans while also helping themselves? Now that was something they could do. Better that the Africans remain in poverty than get access to food while being asked to join a worldwide corporation apparently. Jeff had already gone through half of his cigarettes, trying to think of some kind of spin he could put on this story. He was currently leaning towards a very simple solution: lie. Tell the public that they were willingly joining the Collective out of thanks for providing families with food and healthcare. Jeff had actually suggested that the recruitment should be voluntary instead of a requirement since then he wouldn't have to think up a way to control the story, but the Collective wanted a formula with hard numbers, so that they would know exactly what it would cost. They didn't want to have to rely on the hope that thankful people would want to join. Jeff found that fact rather ironic. He could recall a time when they were giving him social advice; now he was the one advocating having faith in humanity (OK, it was just because he was feeling lazy) while the Collective didn't trust other people. It was an interesting situation to ponder, far more so than coming up with a good plan to handle the Africa situation.

As Jeff passed by one of the drones who was watering some lilacs, he decided to ask about it. "Drone, I have a question."

The drone turned around to face Jeff and he noticed that there was no flesh visible. The drone was clad only in a pair of brown overalls. Every exposed part of its body was metal. Its feet, arms, torso, head, everything was covered in cybernetics. Jeff wasn't even sure what the drone's gender was.

"What question can we answer for you, Dr. Borg?" The drone's voice kept changing pitch, almost like someone was using a faulty version of Autotune on it. Guess the question of the drone's gender was going to remain a mystery then.

"Why is it that the Collective does not trust that Africans will join up once we assist their families by providing food and healthcare?"

"Because there is no guarantee that they will."

Jeff wasn't sure what answer he had been expecting, but that wasn't it. "You don't think they will join because of...free will?"

"If the Collective makes a decision, it is the most logical decision that can be made based on all the facts currently available. We do not change our minds because of emotional states, only when new facts are presented. Not only do humans make decisions based on emotions instead of logic; but two humans in the same emotional state, in the same situation, could still make two different decisions. Individuals are random, unpredictable."

"I see...thank you for answering my question."

"You are welcome Dr. Borg," the drone said as it turned around to resume watering the flowers.

Jeff resumed his walk. The drone had answered his question, but now he was just left even more confused then before. Back in...Jeff couldn't quite remember, '48? Whenever it was the Collective went through their last personality change, Jeff had assumed it was purely because of the addition of so many new voices on the network that it simply drowned out almost all emotion. Now he was beginning to think it was something else. Being part of a large group of people, all of which perfectly understood who you were, able to hear every thought, for a long period of time, would eventually make you used the situation. Drones would come to see their existence as normal. Once that occurred, their ability to relate to others would diminish as they have more and more trouble seeing things from the perspective of individuals. The Collective cannot relate to individuals, they simply lack the ability to think like that anymore. There was probably a paper just waiting to be written here. Then again, psychology was just neural biology for people that couldn't pass science in high school, so Jeff didn't really feel like wasting his time writing about it.

Jeff was struck by a quote he heard back when he was still in college, "The AI does not hate you, nor does it love you, but you are made out of atoms which it can use for something else." Given the Collective's current viewpoint compared to how they used to interact with humans, that quote seemed eerily foreboding. Would the Collective eventually regard humans as just another resource to harness? OK, this was just a depressing train of thought and not something Jeff had to worry about anyway. After all, he was the genius that created the Collective, so what if they decided to get rid of a most of the humans on the planet? People are stupid, but he was smart. The Collective wouldn't eliminate the potential his brobdingnagian brain represented.

It was then Jeff noticed Thurgood kneeling before a...was that a maul on a pedestal? Thurgood was kneeling with his hands clasped before him while muttering under his breath. As Jeff approached, Thurgood finished whatever he was doing and stood up, dusting himself off.

"J-dawg! How's it hanging? Hey, did you check out the mighty morphin flower arranger working the gardens? Hot huh?"

Jeff thought back to the androgynous drone he had talked to, and decided he didn't want to think about Thurgood's sexual opinions. "What in the world were you just doing Thurgood?"

"I recently converted to Norse, and the Collective said I could have this little shrine of Mjolnir built, so I come out here to pray to Thor when I'm stuck on a project."

"Norse refers to a Scandinavian people and their culture, the religion is called Germanic neopaganism. How is it that I know more about your religion then you do? Did you research it at all before converting? Furthermore, why would you convert to _that_ religion!"

"Oh that's easy. Jesus promised the end of all wicked people, Thor promised the end of all ice giants. I don't see any ice giants around. Praise be to Thor."

"I really don't know what I'm supposed to say to that."

"What about you Dr. B? As a born-again Norseman, I feel I'm obligated to ask about your spirituality. Would you like to convert to the worship of Odin?"

"I don't need to be born again, Thurgood. I got it right the first time." And with that, Jeff turned around and walked off. That had to have been one of the most surreal conversations he had ever had with Thurgood. Jeff would have blamed Thurgood's religious experience on the man being so gambrinous except he didn't reek of alcohol. Jeff didn't even know what part he should ponder first to try to follow Thurgood's thought processes. Was it even worth thinking about? The alternative was to actually do his job and figure out a solution to the African situation. Damn...tough choice.

**Hidden Humanity Front Meeting March 19, 2060 AD**

Edward "Ned" Ludlam was not in a good mood. God gave him a mission and he had failed; failed to properly incite his followers, failed to overthrow the government, failed to put an end to the Borg Collective. He did not know the police would have laser guns or that they would be so properly coordinated to repel the attack. How he managed to escape DC once things went sour, Ned didn't know. After the police opened fire on the crowd, Ned and some of his lieutenants had crammed into a car and just drove. Now they were felons on the run, hiding in some underground bunker in the woods. It had been built by a member of Humanity Front as a way to hide from the government. The man had been arrested several years ago for attacking a Collective transport truck that happened to drive through town. Now his wife and two sons kept the bunker functional.  
>"So then it's true? John won't ever come back to us? He's going to be turned into...into one of those...things?" John's wife, Kate, asked Ned.<p>

"I am afraid so Mrs. Brewster. Not only are those the government deems "criminals" being assimilated to become Borg, but the Collective is now arming not just the military, but the police as well. They truly are conspiring together to take over this country."

Kate's older son looked up from the gun he was cleaning. "Let them try, they can take our land when we lie dead on it."

"Unfortunately," Ned responded, "It may come to that."

"Hold on now, Ned. We don't know what the government is planning to do. We don't know how many people have been arrested. We lack too much information to do anything drastic." Ned's lieutenant Joseph interrupted.

Joseph was always urging caution. Whereas Ned used to rely on him to provide an alternate option when they were contemplating plans, now he was simply a burden. It was Joseph who had said they should wait before moving against the government. Ned had listened, and waited. For two years, he had waited. When the government had allowed the Collective to begin assimilating criminals, Ned could not wait anymore. Looking back, Ned realized he shouldn't have waited. Those two years had given the Collective time to develop their laser weaponry and distribute it amongst the government thugs. Now, with the government aware of Humanity Front's plans, he had to move fast.

"No Joseph, now is the perfect time for drastic action. The government expects us to be on the run. Instead of being defensive, we must be go on the attack."

**Borg Collective Asclepius Hospital March 29, 2060 AD**

There were two types of stupid people in the world, as far as Jeff was concerned. There were the people that were stupid and were fun to laugh at. Then there were the people that were so stupid, it was amazing that they remembered to breath. Laughing at them felt like laughing at a paramecium. They were simply so far back on the evolutionary scale it didn't make sense to judge them based on one's own knowledge. Case in point, the conversation Jeff was forced to endure with Thurgood.

"I was thinking, was there a dominate species before humans? Like, who ruled the animal kingdom? And it hit me: trees. Like humans, trees are everywhere. We are the only species that's bested trees. No other animal has massively destroyed trees like we have."

Jeff sighed and said, "Thurgood...what does that have to do with why you felt the need to jump in the gorilla pen at the zoo?"

"I'm getting there. So I was at the zoo, thinking about trees and how we were took over the planet from them. I wanted to apologize to the tree people on behalf of my species, when I saw one of the monkeys was using the tree to scratch its butt."

"Putting aside the fact that gorillas are apes, not monkeys, that still doesn't answer my question."

"Well, how would you feel if a gorilla used you to scratch its butt? Offended right? So I felt sorry for the tree. Humans have already wiped out so many of its brethren, and now it was getting butt marks on its trunk."

"So you jumped into an enclosed area, of which it is very hard to get out of, with one four hundred pound silverback and seven two-hundred pound gorillas. Two of which had their children with them and were therefor even more territorial then usual. All to defend the honor of a tree. Did I get all the correct?"

"Well sure it sounds silly when you say it like that." Thurgood admitted, "But I assure you, I did the right thing. Generations from now, people will tell the story of Thurgood Jenkins, who bravely stood up to the gorilla menace in defense of the poor tree. Sometimes Jeff, you just have to stand up for your principles. And I did that today."

Jeff decided to try to steer the conversation back to his original reason for coming into Thurgood's room in the first place. "Right. Well, the doctors say that most of your broken bones will be easily fixable once they inject you with nanites. The various damaged organs are going to need to be more closely examined to see if they are heal-able or if you're going to need cybernetic replacements."

"Ooooo, I hope I need replacements. That way they can take out my organs and put them in jars. I just moved into a new house and I haven't been able to think of what I should keep on the mantle over the fireplace."

"You know Thurgood, you really are a Flibbertigibbet sometimes. You don't have to speak whenever someone says something. You could just accept the news, say thank you, and shut up."

"That wouldn't be very fun. In fact, I bet it would be quite boring. Did you know that ninety nine percent of people are boring? I am the one percent."

"I...eh...just forget it. I delivered the news since I was passing by here anyway. The Collective wants to show me their new MRI machines. Medical equipment construction is a multi-billion dollar a year industry and they want in on it."

"What do Mexican Radio-wave Intensifier machines have to do with medicine?" Thurgood asked.

"What!"

"What?"

"...I'm leaving now."

"OK, have fun Jeff-fa-fa."

Jeff decided to get out of the room and not spend time thinking about Thurgood's latest nickname for him. As Jeff began walking down the hallway, he was joined by his guide who had waited outside Thurgood's room. Last time he was here, Jeff was a patient so hadn't really memorized where everything was so he had been assigned a guide to take him around the hospital. This drone was still quite normal looking. She had her left hand replaced with...well a box. Jeff assumed it functioned like a Swiss Army Knife and various implements could pop out of it. She also had her eyes replaced, though that wasn't noticeable at a glance. Other than that, she looked like an average human. She still dressed normally, still wore her hair in what Jeff assumed was the latest fashion. Sure there was also the emotionless tone to her voice, but he had gotten used to that on people years ago, didn't even notice it anymore.

"You know, Drone, talking with Thurgood is really just an exercise in learning new ways to kill brain cells."

"There is no need for floccinaucinihilipilification Dr. Borg," the drone responded.

"Possibly, but I don't see why I had to be the one to tell him about his condition. Any of you could have managed it. Why did you let me go in there knowing the way his brain jumps to total non-sequiturs?

"Dr. Borg, you were the one that asked how he ended up with such life-threatening injuries, knowing his reasoning would not remotely qualify as logical."

"Well, yes but that's not the point!" Jeff sputtered.

"Dr. Borg, despite all of your complaints, you still seek Mr. Jenkins out on a regular basis to converse. On days when one of you is not working, you still contact him in some way. Usually by email but sometimes you use a phone. While the only reason you needed to come to the hospital was to see the new MRI machines, you still asked what Mr. Jenkin's medical condition was. When you were told that he had not yet been notified you volunteered to inform him on the basis that he wouldn't pay attention to a drone."

Jeff didn't have a response to that, so he didn't even bother opening his mouth. He simply sulked as they walked down the hall. How was it the drones could have so much trouble understanding the principle of helping people to earn goodwill and yet they could explain Jeff and Thurgood's relationship with such annoying accuracy? He wanted to defenestrate his guide for being right.

"By the way, Dr. Borg, we thought you would like to know that with the United States government declassifying nanomachine technology, we will begin construction on a space elevator next month."

Jeff stopped walking to stare at the drone. "Really? A space elevator? That's...incredible."

"Technically, we could have begun construction on the elevator years ago but it would have bankrupted the Collective. Nanites aren't required to create graphene, but they do allow for much more rapid and cost efficient construction. With nanomachines, the entire project should only take about seven years."

"So once the elevator is finished, we won't need to pay those exorbitant rates to launch the from Spaceport America? Then again we do make a fair amount of money renting out the use of the Scaled Composites White Knight Four. I haven't looked at the balance sheets for the space program but I imagine we are barely breaking even, if that."

"You are correct Dr. Borg. The purchasing of Virgin Galactic from Virgin Group saved us numerous start-up costs, but ultimately we are losing money on this venture."

"So then why are you doing it? What made you all decide to invest in space travel? Will the space really be that much of a tourist draw that you ever expect to make back the investment?" Jeff asked, genuinely curious. This was the first time he had ever bothered to ask the Collective why they wanted to expand into space.

"We may eventually recoup the losses, but that is not why we seek to explore space."

"Alright, I'll bite. Why do you want to explore space?"

"To achieve ultimate knowledge. We are limited in what we can learn while we remain on Earth. We must find the other lifeforms in the galaxy and assimilate them into the Collective."

"Wait, aliens! You want to assimilate aliens? Are there even any out there?"

"Current estimates place the number of planets in the galaxy around one hundred billion. Statistically speaking, there will be life on some of those planets. Any action the Collective takes in some way contributes towards our ultimate goal: attaining all knowledge. The assimilation of individuals is the most effective way to reach that goal, be they human or alien."

Jeff was about to respond when he heard what sounded like an explosion and the whole building shook. He quickly grabbed onto his guide to keep from falling over. She seemed completely nonplussed by the situation. "Drone! What the hell was that?"

"Ten people in Humanity Front outfits are on the premise with military grade weapons. The explosion you just felt was when they denoted the semi-truck they crashed into the lobby."

"WHAT!"

"Do not worry Dr. Borg. While the explosion killed everyone in the lobby as well as several on the floor above them, there are still sufficient drones on the premises to deal with them. They are heavily armed but we have outnumber them three hundred eighty seven, wait eighty six now, to eleven." She took Jeff by the arm and lead him into the nearest room and locked the door. There was a man laying in the bed, hooked up to numerous machines, dead asleep. Jeff was suddenly envious, the man could die and he wouldn't even know it. He had slept straight through an explosion, he wasn't gonna wake up for anything.

"So we're not in any danger?" Jeff asked his drone.

"This drone has a pulsed energy projectile implant and more drones are approaching your location, we will protect you."

"Why are they attacking now though? The attack in DC failed, Humanity Front has been declared a terrorist organization. They've lost a lot of their support. Is the local chapter just pissed and decided to go out with a bang?"

"You are partially correct Dr. Borg. This is not a local event, Collective owned properties around the country are under attack from Humanity Front members. Most are not as well armed or well planned as the group attacking the hospital."

"What can they hope to accomplish?"

"As you said Dr. Borg, they seek to 'go out with a bang' though given the knowledge of anti-Collective sentiments among the populace we can gain from assimilating them, they will not be killed. Suicide by cop, or drone, will not occur today."

A thought suddenly occurred to Jeff. "Dammit, I just realized I'm going to have to hold a press conference tomorrow to give the Collective's opinion on this aren't I?"

"Of course, Dr. Borg. It is your job after all."

"But this time, my opinion is very different from your opinion!"

"You do not see this incident as yet another inevitable outcome of free will and another reason why all humans should join the Collective?" the drone asked.

"NO!" Jeff shouted. "I see this as a excuse to kill all these nutjobs! These psychopaths should not be allowed into the Collective. They don't deserve it! They almost killed me!"

"All humans deserve a chance to join the Collective Dr. Borg."

"Just because then can walk upright doesn't mean they're human. They might as well be australopithecus's for all we know since they clearly don't understand how life in a civilized society works!" Jeff ranted, he wasn't thinking now. Simply shouting whatever words entered his head.

"You are angry because your life might be in danger Dr. Borg. Do not worry, your thought processes will be much more logical tomorrow after you have had time to calm down."

"Stop being so damn calm! We could die and you don't care because you're just a drone! I'm not in the neural network! When I die, I really die!"

"Are you requesting that we implant you with a neural transceiver?" the drone asked.

"No, I like being me. I don't want to be a drone, I just don't want to die! Think up something so that I don't have to worry about this sort of thing happening again!"

"Very well Dr. Borg. We shall commit several drones to completing that task."

_Thanks to yog for being my beta reader._


	7. Chapter 7: Ascension

**Ascension**

**Traveling Limousine, Brunei June 21, 2069 AD**

"...all the sailors were marooned!"

"Thurgood...that is not funny."

"What? Come on Ja-fizzle, sure it is."

Jeff put his head in his hands. Thurgood was a forty-two year old man and yet he still acted like a college dropout working the night shift at a fast food joint. He invented annoying nicknames for Jeff, told bad jokes, didn't take anything seriously, and probably had an IQ somewhere around room temperature. Jeff despised Thurgood because despite all that, Jeff enjoyed the man's company and that irked him to no end. Logically, Jeff should not like being around Thurgood, yet they hung out, they did things together. They were...ugh, friends.

Thurgood and Jeff were in the back of a limo that was driving them to the finished space elevator, the _Fountain of Paradise _as Jeff had insisted it be named. The Collective had decided to construct the elevator in Brunei, because they more or less controlled the country's government and because it was close to the equator. This had upset the United States government, they wanted to elevator built somewhere closer to their sphere of influence. Jeff was actually quite pleased with the location. Not only was in it Collective controlled territory, but being so close to India, China, and Japan, allowed him to play the three countries off one another in exchange for favors and resources. Because of this, the whole project came in under-budget even though it took two years longer than initially estimated (though in retrospect Mecca was probably not the best location to open the Collective's Middle East Headquarters, too many protesters drained too much of the Collective's attention).

Jeff glanced out the window of the limo, ignoring whatever it was Thurgood was rambling on about, admiring the view of the _Fountain_. While the Collective had covered the structure in weather-resistant self-repairing paint, they had decided to only use one color: black. Jeff wasn't sure if it made the _Fountain_ an eyesore or a masterpiece. Either way, it certainly stood out amongst all the scenery when glancing across the horizon. It stretched up and up, disappearing into the sky. It was just so big. The Collective had built a structure bigger than the Great Pyramid, bigger than the Great Wall of China, bigger than the annual GDP of some countries. Being the impressive specimen of a human being that he was, Jeff wasn't used to feeling insignificant, but staring up at this giant structure Jeff couldn't help but feel like a blip on the radar screen of time.

This was going to be a monumental day. Scientists, celebrities, and politicians from all over the planet had come to Brunei for the event. Today was the day the Collective would be turning on the _Fountain_. People could ride in it (though it was a rather long trip), cargo could be carried in it; the _Fountain_ was gigantic with multiple cars. Building a lunar colony was suddenly economically feasible with the cost of getting off of Earth so low. Hmmm, did that mean Jeff could get a space station apartment? He would finally be away from all the idiotic people he had to deal with. Commute to work would probably set a new world record though. Dream about the future later, right now Jeff needed to mentally prepare himself for the speech he would be giving. Prior to writing the speech, a drone had told him they didn't care what he said since Thurgood would be giving a speech directly after Jeff. Jeff was free speak his mind since no matter how angry he got the crowd, Thurgood would defuse the situation with nonsensical tautologies and tangents. However, at some point during writing the speech Jeff had decided to try something totally different. This wasn't going to be like most of his press conferences, he was going to try to come off as likable as a personal challenge to himself. He wanted to see if he was as good at his job as the Collective seemed to think he was.

The limo slowed down as it turned and entered the property surrounding the _Fountain_. It would still be another five minutes before they actually reached the stage at the base of the elevator. The _Fountain_ and the area surrounding it weren't designed for use by solely the Collective. The Collective planned for the _Fountain_ to be a hub, an airport basically, for mankind to expand into space. According to the Collective's most recent uses of psychohistory, they were going to be the only ones with a space elevator for years to come. There would be attempts various governments but those would be sabotaged by rival countries. The Collective wasn't loyal to any country and was willing rent out space on the _Fountain _to whomever would pay (OK, technically it was an American company with a lot of contracts for the US military but that didn't mean the Collective was going to sit up and bark whenever the government wanted).

"Great Odin's raven! Jeff look! Isn't that Dixie Normus?" Thurgood suddenly shouted as he pressed himself up against the window to look out at a gathering of about a dozen people as the limo drove past.

"The porn star the first lady is having an affair with? Why should I care? And how did she end up with an invite to this event anyway?" Jeff asked.

"We invited her as part of a science experiment Dr. Borg," the limo driver said. "She is nine months pregnant and we were curious what childbirth in space would be like. She agreed to come provided we cover all of her travel and medical costs as well as pay child support since she doesn't know, or want to know, who the father is."

"And if something goes wrong and she or the kid die up there? Jeff asked skeptically. "I may be a genius but I'm not sure how to spin that kind of story."

"Oh, stop worrying J-rod. We can just tell people her vagina was haunted and the ghost scared her to death. Bing bang boom. People don't like talking about feminine stuff, especially scary feminine stuff, and nothing is scarier than ghosts, so that will end the story," Thurgood said as he turned around from the window and sat back in his seat.

Jeff wasn't sure what was worse, Thurgood's suggestion, or the fact that he could understand Thurgood's logic (if you could call it that). "As scary as ghosts are, let's consider that our plan B excuse and think up another one, just in case. I'm thinking something along the lines of a medical reason that would have happened regardless of gravity," Jeff responded.

"Bah. You're no fun Jeff. One of these days you will take a suggestion from me on how to spin a story and will be forced to admit that you aren't perfect, mark my words," Thurgood said as he shook a finger at Jeff.

"Thurgood, instead of trying to prove you can measure up to me, why not aim for more plausible goals? Like turning straw into gold?" Jeff asked.

"Huzzah! That was a burn. And a good one too! See J-dawg, this is why were friends. Because we get each other. I annoy you, you insult me. Its symbolic...cinambonic...symbiosis...its like a circle, our relationship. Wash rinse and repeat. That whole thing, you know." Thurgood said as he laughed.

Jeff didn't have a chance to respond as the limo pulled to a stop and the driver announced that they had arrived. Thurgood eagerly reached over and opened the door before the drive had even turned off the engine. By the time the driver had gotten out of the limo, so had Thurgood who was already wandering around chatting with the various people that had gathered nearby as they pulled in. The press conference didn't start for another half an hour so Jeff didn't see any harm in letting Thurgood go meet new people (why did he suddenly feel like a parent?). Jeff decided he would wait backstage and go over his notecards rather than waste time talking to a bunch of people that hated him as much as he did them.

_**Fountain of Paradise**_ **Spaceport, Brunei June 21, 2069 AD**

Hakesh Patel did not like how this day was turning out. As the highest ranking member of the Indian government visiting Brunei, he expected better treatment than he was getting. After all, it wasn't like this elevator could have been built without his country's help. But no, it was like the Collective was actively trying to get rid of him. First, the Indian embassy had lost power due to the weather last night so breakfast had to be delivered from a local restaurant which hadn't put the right amount of spice into any of the food. Then his delivery motorcade had been towed TOWED, because it was in a no parking zone while it waited for him. Almost his entire escort had been arrested when they tried to stop the tow-truck driver. In any other country there wouldn't have been any trouble with the law but Brunei had done away with all forms of diplomatic immunity when the Collective took over. True, Hakesh had known that this could technically happen, but he didn't think it actually would! He had been provided with several relatively normal looking drones so that he had a properly sized escort while most of his men spent the rest of the day in jail. Then he had to ride in a beat up SUV because all the other limos in the entire city were being used. In addition to the horrible traffic, Hakesh had to endure lectures from the drones about how it was important to obey all laws while in Brunei because they don't give anyone special treatment. After all that, now he was forced to listen to one of the few non-implanted employees of the Collective prattle on about his clothing.

"For the last time NO! It isn't only worn by married women! And stop calling it a dot! It's a bindi!" Hakesh almost shouted at the man.

"Hey hey, it cool my man. No need to be upsetting your chi or whatever you fellows call it. I'm just feeling out your culture before we invade," the idiot coolly responded.

"Was that a threat?" Hakesh growled.

"You misunderstand me dude. I don't mean with armies, I mean with hammers. Are you prepared to accept Thor as your Lord and Savior? For he will bring down the lightning if you don't. He is a wrathful and jealous God... also a drunk one. Actually, you'd probably be pretty safe even if you didn't convert. Once he's started drinking Thor's aim with thunderbolts is terrible and let me tell you, he is always drinking."

"You mean to tell me this was all an attempt to spread your religion? I am an important visiting dignitary and you are wasting my time trying to convert me to the worship of your drunken hammer god of weather?" This time Hakesh was shouting. He could only tolerate so much in one day.

"So I should take that as a no? Alright, let me know if you change your mind, I got to get onstage now. I've got a speech to give after the J-myster." And with that the strange man turned around and walked towards the stage, not the least bit bothered by Hakesh's outburst.

Hakesh glared daggers at the idiot as he climbed the stage and took a seat behind the podium next to the arrogant ass-of-man, Jeffery Borg. Hakesh had been forced to deal with Borg for most of his discussions with the Collective, whenever they were negotiating any kind of deal. Borg and the moron were quietly talking to each other, about what, Thor only knew...did he really just think that? That imbecile was rubbing off on him.

Dr. Borg stood up suddenly and walked to the podium. He cleared his throat to get everyone's attention and the audience began heading towards their seats. Hakesh just glared at the man, who was calmly looking at a stack of note cards waiting for everyone to quiet down. Borg represented everything wrong with the world, he was a necessary evil. He insulted everyone he met, belittled those that tried to improve other's situations, was probably one of the most powerful men on the planet (he had the economic power of the Collective at his beck and call it seemed) and yet what did he do to better humanity? Nothing, that's what. Borg didn't help the downtrodden; it was almost as if he despised them for simply existing. Rather than helping the starving people of Africa, Borg thought up ways to assimilate them into the Collective. The only reason no one did anything was because no country could afford to piss of the Collective, they had too much power. While Hakesh desperately wanted to help his own starving people, he refused to allow the Collective to come in and start turning them into slaves. Instead he had been forced to barter raw materials for basic necessities, food and medical supplies, to the Collective so that they could construct their giant elevator. Hakesh still didn't understand the point of the whole thing. True, they could cheaply put satellites in orbit as well as get to the Moon, but that was about it. Hakesh wasn't a rocket scientists but he knew there wasn't an engine on the planet that could move a space ship around the solar system (let alone the galaxy) in any kind of timely manner.

Dr. Borg tapped one of the numerous microphones in front of him to quiet everyone down and began to speak. "Assembled simpletons, once again you find yourselves in a situation where your only real reaction should be to drop to your knees and thank God...for me. Because once again my creation, the Borg Collective, has brought to reality something that was previously thought to have only feasible in dreams and drunken stupors. I am, of course, referring to the _Fountain of Paradise_. For those of you that think halitosis is a Greek island (and I can tell from here that quite a couple of you believe that) let me explain. The _Fountain of Paradise_is the rather large structure you see behind me. Before I truly get into my speech allow me to answer the question a great number of those gathered here will want to ask, that way you can focus on the content of my speech rather than bouncing from foot to foot waiting for me to call on you when I get to the question portion of this meeting. We at the Borg Collective are aware that it is an elevator and not, in fact, a fountain. Furthermore, you deserve to be castrated for wanting to ask me. I hope you never breed. Read a book."

That arrogant prick! Alright, Hakesh didn't know why the elevator was called the _Fountain of Paradise _but he was certainly aware that it was an elevator and not a fountain. Just because he didn't know as much as Dr. Borg did not mean he was a complete buffoon. Hakesh did earn a law degree at night while working to support himself and his family, he was damn proud of his education. How dare Borg assume that everyone in the audience had the intelligence of dog!

"Something for the younger folks to consider: I was born in 1995. I am seventy three years old and still hard at work at my job. Given current medical technology, that is not surprising. However, when I was born the average life span was seventy five years old. In my lifetime I've seen the rise of the Internet, the rise of social networking sites, medical advances that allow me to walk around despite the fact that my lower spine is completely mangled, countries join and then leave the United States, technology that allows for almost instance transmission of information directly between minds, as well as students no longer walking barefoot in the snow, uphill both ways to get to school. This is a breathtaking pace for society to advance, and such a pace cannot help but create new ills, new ignorance, new problems, new dangers. Surely the opening vistas of space promise high costs and hardships, as well as high reward."

Huh...this speech took an unusual turn. It almost sounds upbeat. Dr. Borg never gave uplifting speeches; he gave speeches about how grateful the world should be that the Collective existed and that the company was gracing the rest of humanity with their inventions. Hakesh wasn't sure if he should be pleased or worried at this change.

"So it is not surprising that some would have humanity stay where we are a little longer to rest, to wait. But western society was not built by those who waited and rested and wished to look behind them. It was conquered by those who moved forward-and so will space."

Ah, here we go. Back to the egotistical Borg that Hakesh knew and loathed. Now here comes the segue into the Collective leading the charge to conquer space and then unite the Earth (or maybe it will be the other way around).

"William Bradford, speaking in 1630 of the founding of the Plymouth Bay Colony, said that all great and honorable actions are accompanied with great difficulties, and both must be enterprised and overcome with answerable courage. If the study of history, as well as the changes I have seen in my lifetime, teach us anything, it is that man, in his quest for knowledge and progress, is determined and cannot be deterred. The exploration of space will go ahead, whether we join in it or not, and it is one of the great adventures of all time, and no nation, no group, which expects to be the leader of others can expect to stay behind in the race for space."

That was sort of a declaration of the Collective's plans to dominate control over space...maybe? Hakesh was just more and more confused. It sounded like Dr. Borg assumed humans would eventually travel to space and that the Collective might as well be there to lead the way. Normally he would talk about how the Collective was altering human destiny and changing society forever, now they were simply the shepherds to lead people to the stars? What was Borg playing at? What was the man's motivation here?

"For too long, space has been a realm accessible only for governments and the extremely wealthy. Even with the enormous reductions in fuel cost that nuclear fusion has allowed, space travel is still really expensive. Not many people have been to space for any extended period of time. Those that take advantage of the Collective's space program tend to view it as a luxury vacation that is only done once, something to check off the bucket list. We do not make money taking people to space, but we do it anyway because it must be done. Humanity must expand past out planet's atmosphere. We must set sail on this new sea because there is new knowledge to be gained, and new rights to be won, and they must be won and used for the progress of all people. For space science, like my neural transceivers and all technology, has no conscience of its own. Whether it will become a force for good or ill depends on man, and only if we go to space can we decide whether this new ocean will be a sea of peace or a new terrifying theater of war. The Collective is going into space. If you do not like the idea of space travel being dominated by drones then come join us, compete with us. The Collective is not greedy; there is plenty of space to go around."

Hakesh was surprised to hear that the Collective wasn't making money taking people into space. The company was made up of some of the smartest minds to walk the planet and could communicate with each other on a level that simply wasn't possible for normal people, and yet they couldn't figure out a pricing structure that allowed them to turn a profit? Surely there were accountants somewhere in the company to think things through. Unless they had an ulterior motive for space travel, which judging from what Borg just said seemed likely. They actually welcomed competition in space? They wanted humanity to expand simply because?

"We chose to build the _Fountain_. We choose to go to go to space and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win, and the others, too."

Something about what Borg said sounded annoyingly familiar. Had he lifted part of his speech from a movie?

"For ages untold, mankind has asked himself 'Why am I here? What is my purpose?' To this day, we still don't have an answer to either of those questions. The only way we can find an answer is to look for one. We have to learn, we have to acquire knowledge. The growth of our science and education will be enriched by new knowledge of our universe and environment, by new techniques of learning and mapping and observation, by new tools and computers for industry, medicine, the home as well as the school. Mankind has been in space for over one hundred years, and yet I would argue the space effort is still in its infancy. There is so much we have yet to do. Many years ago the great British explorer George Mallory, who was to die on Mount Everest, was asked why did he want to climb it. He said, 'Because it is there.' Well, space is there, and we're going to climb it, and the moon and the planets are there, and new hopes for knowledge and peace are there. And, therefore, we set sail on the most hazardous and dangerous and greatest adventure on which man has ever embarked. We will explore space, I hope to see you there. Now then, any questions?"

Hakesh was stunned, as was the rest of the audience. Dr. Borg had opened his speech with the usual arrogance everyone expected, but then he had transformed into this hopeful altruistic figure that only wanted what was best for humanity. Had Borg finally gotten a neural transceiver implanted? Hakesh's thoughts were cut short when Borg shrugged, turned around, and walked back to his seat. Damn it! Hakesh had wanted to ask him questions but had totally forgotten to ask them. He started to speak up when practically everyone else in the audience did the exact same thing. Borg promptly ignored everyone and was quietly talking to the nimrod seated next to him. After they exchanged a few sentences, the cretin stood up and walked to the podium. The man was probably older than Hakesh but he had this stupid grin on his face that reminded Hakesh of a mentally challenged child stuck in grade school. He seemed oblivious to the mood of people around him, he was going to say his piece and not care what everyone thought. Hakesh had been trying to remember the man's name ever since he had got on the stage. He was the only other PR guy that worked for the Collective and was known for always being on some kind of drug.

"Hello peoples of yesterday! I am Thurgood Jenkins and I'm here to tell you that today is now tomorrow because anyone can go into space...provided they can get to Brunei anyway because the Collective has finished construction on the _Fountain of Paradise_. Just look at that elevator. Isn't it impressive? I get a glowing feeling in my tummy just looking at all that has been accomplished...then again that might be from the plutonium I ate earlier, oh well, no matter, back on track now. You could build and send satellites up on our elevator. You could send building materials up, and build yourself a floating apartment and live in it...unless it wasn't up to code. Then it might vent atmosphere and kill you. Wow, that's depressing and killing my buzz. How about a joke? Did you hear about the ship carrying a cargo hold full of red paint that crashed into a ship carrying a cargo hold full of blue paint? Well-

"OH SHUT UP ALREADY!" Hakesh shouted. He couldn't stand it anymore. It was bad enough he had been forced to endure a conversation with this idiot earlier, he wasn't about to sit through a speech from him. "I have questions that I want answered and I insist Dr. Borg come forward and stop ignoring us!"

Thurgood glanced back at Borg who was in the middle of lighting a cigarette. Once he got the thing lit and took a puff, he waved his hand dismissively at Thurgood and leaned back in his chair to stare straight up at the sky. With a shrug Thurgood turned back around.

"Apparently, Dr. B doesn't care if you have questions. However, I will be happy to answer your questions since they seem so important to you. Though you should know this is highly irregular, normally I eat enough fiber so that these sort of explosions don't happen during press conferences. Must have been the prune juice I had on the plane ride over here," Thurgood explained.

Hakesh wasn't entirely sure what Thurgood had just said, but he understood the part where he said questions would be answered. "My country has donated numerous resources as well as provided laborers for the construction of this colossal...project." Hakesh decided that insulting the elevator his country had just spent years helping to build on international television would probably not be the smartest career move. "In exchange for the donations the Collective has been sending food and medical supplies to India. Now that construction is complete, what will the Collective do to help those in need or will you just abandon them to their fate now that you no longer need any help?"

Thurgood took a deep breath, whether it was to stall for time or because he had smoked something earlier and needed to inhale some more oxygen, Hakesh wasn't sure. "Hmmmm, that is a good question, a damn good question if I may say so. Will the Collective help the poor with food and medical supplies? Well, you see, it all comes down to who is willing to pass the peace pipe. I got to smoke with all sorts of dudes when we went to Africa. Congo, Nigeria, Libya, were all willing to sit down and take a hit of the gonja. Somalia seemed to think we were secretly ninjas and since that country is populated by pirates, an accord could not be reached. Hehe, accord. It's not often I get to use that word in a sentence. So anyway, since we don't like to trespass, we stayed out. When we started building the _Fountain_, China welcomed us with arms wide open, under the sunlight. They welcomed us to their place, and showed us evERY-thing. China is cool like that, they like us. I get the impression that India doesn't like us, you wouldn't let us in. So if you wouldn't let us in before when we helped you, why should we go in now to help you? I get the feeling you're just using us for our stuff, and that's not nice. Friends shouldn't do that to one another."

Thurgood had gotten sniffly at the end and seemed to be on the verge of crying when he finished speaking. Hakesh had been prepared for Thurgood's counterargument, he had not been prepared for a grown man to almost cry in the middle of a question and answer section in a professional press conference. Dr. Borg stood up and walked over to Thurgood and gently guided him back to his seat where they began speaking in hushed tones. When it became clear that neither of them was going to return to the podium, one of the security drones walked up.

According to India's intelligence gathering operatives, the Collective had stopped outfitting its drones with a mishmash of cybernetics and were instead developing several basic models. There was the solider, the tech, the laborer, and the diplomat.

This drone would be grouped in the solider category. All combat drones had their legs replaced for better mobility on the battlefield, this particle one had legs that bent backwards like a dog. Its head was mostly unaltered, but there was some kind of goggle overlay covering both of its eyes, probably night vision type technology. Its right arm was covered in what appeared to be some sort of metallic skin. Its left arm ended just past the elbow where a gun was attached. Hakesh didn't recognize the weapon (he didn't like guns) but he assumed it was a variation of the Collective's newest plasma weapon. Everyone knew about the Collective's plasma weapons, they seemed to be straight out of a science fiction movie. They were laser guns after all. Hakesh didn't have the slightest clue how they worked, all he knew was that they were a more powerful version of the guns the Collective had sold to law enforcement officers around the globe after that anti-Collective group tried to overthrow the United States government shortly before construction on the _Fountain_began.

The drone leaned down so that it was inches away from the microphones and said, "Because Mr. Jenkins is no longer in the right state of mind for public speaking and Dr. Borg does not want to read Mr. Jenkin's speech, we will direct the five of you that are going into space to the entrance of the _Fountain of Paradise_. We will activate the elevator in one hour and the ascension into space will commence."

_**Fountain of Paradise**_ **Passenger Section, Brunei June 21, 2069 AD**

"You know J-man, considering you are in your seventies, shouldn't you quit smoking cigarettes?" Thurgood asked Jeff as they sat in their chairs, waiting for everyone else to arrive.

Being important employees of the Collective, they had been allowed on first while the other five passengers were still being checked by security (and they were also probably wasting time saying goodbye and milking the occasion for the cameras). The passenger section of the elevator was not big. There were two bedrooms (with all the bunk beds it reminded Jeff of a military barracks), one bathroom, a sitting area, and a dining area. There was a paste maker next to the dining table, so that meant the five guests had to survive the ten day round trip on paste. Even after ten years, the Collective hadn't figured out a way to make the past taste good. It certainly tasted better than it used to, but ten steps above putrid sea water was still crap. Never had Jeff been more glad that he had gotten the nutritional augmentation then he was right now; no paste for him, just nice, healthy power from the same outlet the drones charged from. Jeff didn't understand why the nutritional augmentation never caught on, he only ever ate when he felt like it which meant he didn't have to worry about overeating and getting fat. Seemed like it should be a really easy product to sell but people didn't want to buy it for some reason. Scared of what could happen if the world ended and they lose access to electrical power maybe?

"Because," Jeff answered, "I have a very stressful job and there is no way I can quit smoking and continue working here."

"What? When I was first hired I remember you were forced to quit because you thought you had lung cancer. I realize our bosses expanded our jobs as the Collective has expanded since then, but its still not that stressful a job."

"OK fine. I admit it's not the job that's stressful. It's dealing with my _coworkers_ that makes me want to smoke. Besides, considering all the crap you put into your body, you don't have any right to say I should quit my drug habit," Jeff responded sharply.

"Come on dude, I may not be as young as I used to be, but I'm not old. You, on the other hand, are old. You even said so in your speech! I mean seriously, you were born when most people still connected to the Internet by dialing their phone! What happens if you die from lung cancer, huh? Then I'll be in charge of the Collective's PR and we both know that wouldn't be a good idea."

"Look," Jeff said, glaring at Thurgood. "My health is none of your concern! You may treat your body like a run-down Russian whore house but I am the result of four billion years of evolutionary success! I have survived inhaling damn tobacco since I started back when I graduated college which, if I may point out, was before you were even born!"

Right as Thurgood was opening his mouth to respond the door to the hallway opened and a drone stuck its head in. "Dr. Borg, Mr. Jenkins, pardon the interruption but all the guests are onboard and we will begin rising once they have made their way to the passenger section."

Thurgood was the first to speak after the drone closed the door. "Guess we'll have to discuss your health at another time Dr. B. Don't want to fight in front of the guests, they might think we're not one big happy family. Man, between that mean Indian and this argument, my buzz is completely gone. This sucks. Why wasn't I allowed to bring a joint with me?"

"The same reason I wasn't allowed to bring my cigarettes, the air in the elevator contains high levels of oxygen and the drones don't want any accidental fires," Jeff responded. "I forgot to ask the drones, besides the porn star, who are the people that got selected to go into space with us?"

"Pffft, like I know that answer to that. I don't even remember what I had for breakfast this morning, how am I supposed to remember that names of people I've never met or never seen naked?" Thurgood asked incredulously.

"Well you could...wait...you've watched Dixie's videos?"

"Dude, she's only the most famous porn star in the world, of course I've seen her videos. You mean you haven't?"

"There are better uses of my time than watching two bad actors have sex with each other while they pretend to enjoy it...like trying to discover faster than light speed travel or proving the existence of magical unicorns that fart rainbows," Jeff answered in a deadpan voice.

Thurgood had a thoughtful look on his face as he responded, "I thought you told me rainbows were illusions create by sunlight hitting water droplets. You said that's why there's never a pot of gold at the end of them. Those unicorns must have some seriously wet farts if they're making rainbows with them, guess that's why they're magical."

Jeff let out a long groan. This was going to be a long five days. Jeff was glad he had insisted on just taking a ship back down to Earth instead of the elevator. After he and Thurgood showed off the Zenith Space Station at the top of the _Fountain_ he would hitch a ride while everyone else took the long way down. He suddenly felt the room gently lurch as the elevator began to rise, meaning the guests were almost here. No sooner had he thought that then the door opened and five people entered the room.

Dixie Normus waddled in first. Her stomach was extremely extended, if she had claimed to be carrying twins Jeff would not have been surprised. Because of how much plastic surgery that woman had had done over the years, the rest of her didn't look that pregnant. She hadn't gained any weight in her face, her breasts were already giant so any increase in size was unnoticeable, and her arms and legs looked like she had been exercising a lot. Jeff did find the fact that she had her long blond hair tied in pigtails rather odd. If she was going for the innocent school girl look, her bulging gut kind of killed the possibility of anyone buying it. Dixie was actually going to be staying up on the Zenith until she gave birth whereas everyone else would be leaving the same day they arrived.

The next person in was a tall, incredibly skinny, old man. He was dressed in some kind of military uniform but Jeff couldn't identify the country of origin. Credit where it was due, the man was about to travel into space even though he looked absolutely ancient. A strong breeze could have blown him over. If Jeff ever felt as old as this guy looked he would retire to Florida. The man walked slowly, his right hand almost looked like a claw because of the way it grasped his cane. He was over six feet tall but couldn't have weighed more than one hundred pounds. Jeff couldn't help but notice that while the man was bald (and had numerous scars across his head) he sported an impressive mustache that almost reached his ears. The fellow wobbled to the nearest chair (that Dixie hadn't already grabbed) and slowly lowered himself into it.

The third person to come in the room was an Asian man dressed in the most pristine suit Jeff had ever seen. There wasn't a thread out of place, everything was perfectly creased, his tie was straight down the middle of his chest. The only thing that looked out of place were the giant coke bottle glasses the man was wearing. The man walked up to where Thurgood and Jeff were seated and bowed to them, holding his body at a ninety degree angle for a full ten seconds before straightening back up. "Greetings Dr. Borg, Mr. Thurgood. I am Fred Cho and I am honored to have been selected by my government and your company to be one of the first people to ride the _Fountain _into space." Fred then bowed slightly and walked backwards to a chair. When he sat down, Fred folded his hands in his lap and stared straight ahead. Jeff had met drones that were more relaxed. Still, he couldn't exactly blame the guy. Judging from the very faint accent Jeff caught, Fred was from China and the government there took any sort of screw up by public officials as a severe problem. China had assigned a liaison to the Collective when Jeff had first approached them with the idea of getting assistance in the construction of the _Fountain_. Since that time eight years ago, twelve different people had rotated through that position. Jeff wasn't sure if Fred was going to be China's thirteenth liaison to the Collective or if he was filling some other position.

Jeff recognized the fourth person to enter the room, though her name escaped him (Jeff refereed to her as Canis Lupus Familiaris when talking with Thurgood or any drones). She was a reporter for...some news channel. The Collective always let her into press conferences specifically because she hated the Collective and would put a negative spin on everything she could. While her accusations annoyed Jeff, the drones did have a good point in allowing her to ask questions. Most people saw the Collective as positively normal when compared to this ranting muckraker, anyone that watched her broadcasts could immediately tell she was not impartial. She was dressed semi-formally with her hair up in a bun, but the thing that caught Jeff's eye was the shoulder mounted camera she was wearing. That hypocritical bitch! That was a Collective product designed to be used by reporters that didn't (or couldn't) rely on camera crews. Jeff decided he would make an effort to ignore her this entire trip (which wouldn't be easy considering how small the passenger section of the _Fountain _was). She sniffed disdainfully when their eyes met and she sat in the chair farthest from Jeff.

Jeff's soured mood did improve slightly when the last guest came in the room though. Kenji Nojima was the representative from Japan that Jeff had dealt with every since they began financing various aspects of this construction. Kenji wasn't an idiot, but he wasn't that smart either, and more importantly, he knew it. That simple aspect of his personality made him so much more tolerable than the vast majority of people Jeff had to interact with. Kenji knew his place, knew his limitations, and was content with his position in life. Whereas the guy from India treated the Collective like the devil incarnate, and the Chinese representative changed so much Jeff never really learned anything about them, Kenji was friendly and glad to be coordinating a project that would benefit both the Collective and his country. After glancing around the room Kenji walked over to Jeff and Thurgood to shake their hand. "Jeff, Thurgood, fancy seeing you fellows here."

"This is a chance to spend five days in a confined space with a porn star, I'd find a way onto this elevator ride even if I woke up this morning in a tub of ice with a scar on my back," Thurgood said. Judging from the way Dixie rolled her eyes at that statement, Thurgood was not going to get as lucky as he thought.

"So you going to introduce me to the rest of the people in the room or do I have to do it myself?" Kenji asked the two of them.

Thurgood laughed. "You probably know as much about everyone gathered here as we do. The other Asian dude introduced himself, but I was so mystified by how much he looks like my...'pharmacist' that I never heard a word he said." Fred glanced over when Thurgood said that, but quickly went back to looking straight ahead.

There was a very loud 'harumph' from the old man near the door. He took a deep breath as he said, "You are all weirdos. How can you agree to spend ten days with a group of people not knowing who they will be?"

"Well my fine Russian friend, why don't you handle the introductions?" Kenji suggested with a smile.

The man grumbled before noticing that everyone in the room was staring at him. Giving in with a sigh he began speaking, "I am Rex Smythe-Higgins, I work at the NBIC Center in the Kurchatov Institute in Moscow and specialize in nanotechnology, hence why I am here. You are Kenji Nojima, assigned to work with the Collective by the Japanese parliament, an odd assignment for a former intelligence operative when a diplomat would seem more appropriate for the job. The two men seated near you are Jeffery Borg and Thurgood Jenkins, employees of the Borg Collective. The pregnant woman next to me is Dixie Normous, real name Ariel Johnson. She was brought along because the Collective is curious what effects zero gravity will have on childbirth. The man sitting like he has a board up his rear end is Cho Ming, though he goes by Fred Cho around westerners. He is the latest in a long line of people assigned by the Chinese government to keep an eye on the Collective during their trade discussions. That just leaves the reporter, Ms. Jade Kheck. Regarded as the most anti-Collective person in the United States media, I admit I'm surprised you would want to come on this trip."

"Someone needs to cover this event without having their lips planted firmly on the Collective's collective backside, I'm the best person for the job," Jade responded.

"Well, let's see you try to spin this lady," Thurgood said. "Mr. Smith-Hoggins, I would like to congratulate you and and your country on creating your own Collective. I didn't think anyone besides Jeff and drones had the skills necessary to perform the surgeries for neural transceivers. Especially considering how much vodka you guys drink. Doesn't alcohol make your doctors' hands shake or are you all so used to it you might as well be drinking water?"

"Yes yes, Russians drink a lot. Very creative, I've never heard that joke before." Rex wheezed. "As to how we did it, we worked hard and figured it out. My country put the first object, first animal, and first man into space. I would like to think we could figure out some transmitter-receiver technology and semi-complicated brain surgery thirty years after someone else did. The same can't be said for the Chinese and the Collective that recently formed in Hong Kong however." As Rex finished speaking he turned to look at Fred.

Fred turned his head to address Rex without turning his body. "I have no idea what you are talking about. While there have been attacks against convoys from the Borg Collective, those were done by extremists and terrorists and were certainly not sanctioned by my government. Furthermore, China does not have its own Collective, nor would it. The fact that the Borg Collective broke awake from the United States government shows how foolish it would be to invest so much time and money into creating a Collective that does not maintain its loyalty."

Rex's laughter sounded like wind whistling through an old wooden house. "Whatever you say boy, though you should be aware that Jade will probably be recording everything we say so make sure you get your lies straight."

And indeed, Jeff noticed the light on Jade's camera was on, indicating she was recording the conversation. Deciding he had enough of these people for one day, Jeff got up, planning to just go to bed early. "Well, we have approximately 23,000 miles of travel ahead of us. The elevator's top speed is just under 200 miles per hour so we'll reach the Zenith Space Station in five days. I can see we are all going to get along oh so wonderfully." With that, Jeff walked into one of the bedrooms leaving the six other people in the room to talk amongst themselves.

**Author's Note: **_To Verbosity (since you have private messaging disabled) I'm glad you like the slow development, when I started this story I was worried people would find it dragging out too long. I'm trying to keep the Borg in the middle between the two extremes, they are a gray morality. If you have nitpicks about the science, please let me know, ideally I'd like to keep the science in the story as plausible as possible._


	8. Chapter 8: Revelations

**Author's Note: **_So I finished ME3 the other day and that ending was so bad it just about killed my desire to finish this story. Luckily, I read Mass Effect: Requiescat by Bombsquad and The Fourth Option by commandocucumber, both awesome stories that change the ending so that it doesn't suck._

**Revelations**

**_Fountain of Paradise_ Passenger Section, High Above Brunei June 22, 2069 AD**

Thurgood was so bored. It hadn't even been a full day since he got on the elevator and he was already out of thinks to do. He was currently attempting to carve a smiley face into the surface of the wooden table with a plastic spoon, it wasn't going so well. Hitting on Dixie hadn't worked, he wasn't allowed to use drugs for 'safety reasons' and because the elevator was constantly rising it was hard to keep a steady signal strength on his phone to surf the Internet. He had tried playing Solitaire but the clubs on the cards reminded him of pot leaves. He had tried talking with people but Dr. B, Old Man, Kenji, and Pencil Pusher kept talking about work-related stuff. SomeBitch McCrabbyPants would glare at Thurgood whenever he got near her, she just wanted to record the other four arguing. Worst of all, Dixie spent most of the time napping. Flirting with her did nothing. Why did he insist on coming on this trip again?

He glanced up from his wood-carving to see Old Man slowly walk past the dining room door (the Collective had decided to have a stained glass window of a wasp occupy the upper half of the door) to the bathroom. Old Man walked like a lame duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or something. Thurgood was pretty sure that in a race, a snail on stilts would beat the Old Man. How was Old Man going to survive once they made it into space and started floating around? He'd probably break in half when he collided with a wall.

Well, seeing as how he had made no progress carving into the table (stupid plastic spoons, stupid healthy paste, stupid drones) Thurgood decided to go check to see what everyone was talking about. From here he could see Dixie was reading in a chair, not paying attention to anything and SomeBitch was seated next to her, recording the argument going on just out of Thurgood's sight.

As he walked into the sitting room he saw Pencil Pusher gesturing frantically while he spoke, "No no no, I didn't mean it like that. All I'm saying is that with a Russian Collective, the Borg Collective is now vulnerable to potential cyber attacks. You would need a really good firewall to keep them out and China is well known for our firewalls."

"Fred," Jeff said as he crossed his arms over his chest. "There is no way the Collective would allow the Chinese government access to the code that runs the neural transceivers. Especially since, if what Rex is saying is true, you've already got enough dead drones hidden away that you can copy the hardware but can't work the software and so would need to take a look at it while it's running."

"I keep telling you, my government would never condone attacks against your drones! The deal we struck has been incredibly profitable and can only get better now that the _Fountain _is built and working. Rex is just trying to break apart our alliance."

"We don't have an alliance Fred. We have a trade agreement along with an understanding that China would receive discounted rates when the _Fountain_was finished. However, since the space elevator is now fully built, the trade agreement is over. Unless you are willing to do like most the African countries and allow us to open up offices in the mainland to recruit employees, I don't see any reason to do any business with you beyond what you want shipped into space."

Thurgood wasn't sure how many drones had been attacked and killed in China, but he knew it was a lot more than any other country. He had watched some of the footage of what the drones saw before they died, the attackers were like something out of a video game. They came out of nowhere and killed quickly and efficiently. Thurgood was glad to see Jeff calling Pencil Pusher out on the ninja shenanigans. As Pencil Pusher realized he might not be welcomed warmly when he returned to China it was clear from the look on his scrunchy face (which was only magnified by his ginormous glasses) that he was feeling a nameless dread. Hmmm, actually there probably was a long German name for it for that kind of dread, like Geschpooklichkeit or something, but Thurgood didn't speak German and he doubted Pencil Pusher did either. Anyway, it's a dread that nobody knows the name for, like those little square plastic gizmos that close your bread bags. Thurgood didn't know the name for those either. What would Pencil Pusher's headstone read after he got 'retired' by his bosses for failing to do...whatever it was they had told him to do? "Terrible at his job, but awesome at locating lost objects. Could count the hairs on a fly's legs from a mile away. His superpower will be missed." Course it would probably be in Chinese not English so that meant it would be a bunch of squiggles...would that make it longer or shorter? Could you fit more on a tombstone in Chinese or in English? Thurgood would have to ask Kenji about it at some point, China and Japan were the same place but slightly different, like the Asian equivalent of New York and Texas right?

"I don't have the authority to allow the Collective to open up anything permanent on China, you know that Dr. Borg."

It was at this point that Kenji interjected into the conversation. "Don't worry about it Jeff. We are happy to have your business. Last time I checked, the Collective had an office on all four of Japan's major islands and you are welcome to open more. We love the technological progress your company brings with it, you've done wonders for our economy."

This actually caused SomeBitch to speak up. "You don't see any dangers in having your economic boom rely solely on one company? What happens when they decide to leave to focus on making money somewhere else?"

Kenji laughed at her in response. "Alright, they leave. So what? Who said we were dependent on the Collective's offices? If you did your research at all, you would know the offices are primarily used as recruitment and assimilation chambers for people that wish to become drones. Most of the Collective's products are created in other countries and shipped in." That shut her up, Thurgood noticed smugly as he found a chair and sat down. Ooooh, lots of cushion on this chair. Kinda bouncy, why hadn't he sat in this chair before?

"But back onto the original topic at hand," Jeff said while giving the reporter a quick glare. "I am not worried about the Russian Collective and neither are the drones. So, regardless of what our relationship with China turns out to be, we won't be altering our business strategies. We didn't do anything when Russian announced that they had created a Collective five years ago, I don't see why we should change just because I've now met an implanted nano-scientist."

That caught everyone's attention, even Dixie looked up from her book. Thurgood was the first to speak. "Say what now J-man? Old Man has a neural transceiver implanted in his head? But he doesn't say 'we' and uses like, actual emotions when he talks."

"Well, clearly the Russian neural network doesn't have sufficient people on it yet, or maybe they've equipped their transceivers with an off switch when they aren't working. It doesn't really matter. What I do know is that when I got a close look at Rex's head this morning at breakfast, I recognized some of the scars on his head as those that come from a neural transceivers implantation surgery," Jeff answered.

"So does that change anything? That dude's on a network, he could be spying on us or something. Should we do something?" Thurgood asked.

"Thurgood, I realize your brain is the size of a Lilliput but honestly, why are you worried? You found Rex rather amusing prior to my revelation and suddenly you think he might be a spy? Nothing has actually changed. He is still a (apparently) respected scientist in the field of nanotechnology. The Collective invited him because the _Fountain_is the biggest building in the world that had nanites involved in every single piece of construction. Not to mention I'm pretty sure he's also an agent of the SVR so it would be a good idea to not anger a global superpower by harming one of their intelligence agents."

The conversation in the room died as the creak of a door opening signaled that Old Man was exiting the bathroom. As he slowly made his way back to his chair he spoke, "Well, judging from the way you all shut up, I imagine I was the subject of your conversation. Let's not make this anymore awkward then it already is and just come clean, shall we?"

Thurgood decided to speak up first, "Old Man...is it true you're a Borg drone?"

The sound the Old Man made was either laughter or a death rattle, Thurgood wasn't sure. "I have a neural transceiver in my head, but I am not part of your Borg Collective, and certainly not a drone."

"How does that work?" Dixie, of all people, asked. "I thought getting one of those machines put in your brain killed all emotions."

"I am not at liberty to discuss the schematics of our neural transceivers, but rest assured we improved upon Jeff's original design and found a way around that particular problem." Old Man said smugly while glancing at Jeff.

"And stupidity springs eternal once again, you can't improve perfection. What you did was not an improvement Rex, all you people did was create a limitation." Jeff quickly retorted.

"Are someone's feelings hurt that he didn't think of the next upgrade to add to his favorite toy?" Old Man asked.

"Canis- er um Jade, make sure your camera is rolling for this part." Jeff stood up from his chair and looked down at Old Man, who didn't seem the least bit intimidated. "The emotionless aspect of the drones within the Borg Collective is not, I repeat NOT, the result of a hardware or software flaw. It is the natural result of what happens when so many voices on the neural network talk at once, they drown each other out as the various rivers of emotions meet and form a neural sea. From what you've just told us, the Russian government has deliberately hindered the neural transceivers from constantly talking to each other which limits their ability to do the job I designed them for. Ergo, the neural transceiver in your head is not an improvement, it is a knock-off. Anyone that believes otherwise need only look at the progress the Russian Collective has made compared to that of my Collective. We have developed game engines, operating systems, self-replicating robots, and new sources of energy. We built a damned space elevator! What have you accomplished? Nothing that's what! You've done nothing but simple proof-of-concept work to show that your neural transceivers function. You haven't had the breakthroughs the Borg Collective has had because you continue to hold onto your pathetic ideals of individuality, the possibility of changing the course of the human race's development is within your grasp and you lack the willpower to reach out and do anything!" And with that Jeff spun around and stormed out of the room.

Thurgood noticed Jeff went through the door that lead out of the passenger section and off to one of the numerous cargo areas. Deciding he would rather hang out with Jeff than talk with any of these boring people, Thurgood hopped up from his seat and raced out the Thurgood caught up to Jeff in the hallway he couldn't help but laugh as he slapped Jeff on the back. "Jay-Dawg, that was amazing. That was more awesome than a shark high fiving a grizzly bear during an explosion...on Mount Everest! You put Old Man in his place, and right in from of SomeBitch too. Do you realize that if you had struck a pose before leaving, the whole elevator would have frozen solid from your coolness?"

Jeff just sighed. "I cannot understand how shortsighted some people can be. Rex might as well be the ancient Chinese. The Russian government has the secret of gunpowder and all they want is to make pretty fireworks. I know in my speech down in the spaceport I said I would welcome any competition from groups that want to beat the Collective in choosing the trajectory of human history, but now I think no groups are actually going to take the challenge. Everyone is too content, too lazy, too happy with the status quo. They'll complain about whatever the Collective is doing because it is strange and makes them uncomfortable, but they are sure happy to reap the benefits of our advances."

"Man Jeff, why do you have to be such a downer? Here I am trying to congratulate you on an epic speech and you're getting all angsty about the state of mankind."

"Frankly, Thurgood, I don't understand how you can't be concerned about the future of mankind. The amount of influence you and I have over the Borg Collective is astounding when you think of it, when we talk, they actually listen. How do you not stop and think about what you can do with that kind of power? When you die, what is your legacy going to be? How are people going to remember you?"

"I...er...I don't have an answer to that Dr. B." Thurgood responded after several seconds of thought.

"When I turn those questions around on myself and try to answer them, I don't like what I come up with. I am 'angsty' because I looked in the mirror and couldn't recognize what was looking back."

"Then maybe it's time went in and got your eye augmentations looked at, I'm pretty sure there is a virus going around the affects depth perception. Was made some some bored Swedish teenager on a bet. I can assure you that when you look in the mirror, you will see you. You're still the same crotchety old man you've always been ever since I met you." Thurgood said reassuringly.

Jeff just sighed.

**_Fountain of Paradise_ Passenger Section, High Above Brunei June 24, 2069 AD**

**"**So our rockets would shoot up into space hauling all as much of the building materials they could, and once they got there all the stuff would be set to drift in orbit around the Earth. The rockets would then fly back home to pick up more stuff to bring up to space." Thurgood explained to Dixie.

"OK, but that doesn't totally explain on the elevator was built. The cables for this thing are incredibly long. It's not like these could be made in a factory somewhere." Dixie said as she glanced out of a window. She had just woke up from a nap, apparently it was the middle of the night since she and Thurgood were the only passengers who were awake. Deciding she wasn't in the mood for reading, she had asked Thurgood how various projects by the Collective worked. When he didn't wander off subject his explanations were rather informative, at the moment they were discussing the construction of the _Fountain_.

"Ah, well you see we had, still have actually, a bunch of nanites in the Zenith Space Station. At the time the Zenith was orbiting around the Earth so it would release the nanites on the raw materials and they would transform the stuff in the cables and what-not needed for the elevator. Apparently we need a lot of something called graphene that took the nanites a while to make. Once we had enough it was just a matter of stringing it all together and threading the camel through the eye of the needle. Then we monkey fisted the elevator cables down to the ground, then back up, then back down, then back up, and then it was built. Once everything was attached, the Zenith became stationary over Brunei at the top of the elevator."

Dixie was pretty sure she followed Thurgood's explanation. "Now that the elevator is built and, since we haven't died yet, apparently working, what's the Collective's next step?"

"There aren't any steps Dixie. It's an elevator, not stairs...its not an escalator either cus those also have steps even if most people just stand on them."

"What? No, Thurgood that's not what I meant. What does the Collective plan on doing next now that the elevator's built? Are they going to explore outside the Solar System? Build a base on the Moon? Travel to Mars?"

"Hmmm," Thurgood said as he stroked his chin in a clearly exaggerated manner so as to appear as if he was deep in thought. Dixie resisted the urge to say anything, she didn't want another ten minute lecture on the importance of properly cleaning pineapples before eating them. "I would have to say the answer to all of that is: yes. While we can't go to any other solar systems yet, the Collective just finished developing a new kind of rocket engine. They haven't done any space flights with it yet but it did very well in the lab. Made for a great grill too, I ever tell you I was trained as a Hibachi chef? I made some awesome Teriyaki steak on the top of that rocket. The tricky part was finding a spot where the plasma exhaust didn't waft over and alter the flavor of the meat."

"Plasma exhaust? Don't the Collective's laser guns use plasma? You mean you guys have developed a laser rocket and you were cooking on it?" Dixie wasn't sure if she should be impressed or terrified at this tidbit of information.

"Eh, I'd probably screw it up if I tried to explain everything to you. Mainly because I don't remember how the engine works and so would make it all up in an effort to impress you...did I say that last part out loud?"

"Yes, yes you did."

"Ah...well that's unfortunate." Thurgood said nervously.

Deciding to steer the conversation in another direction before Thurgood tried to make up for his verbal gaff Dixie said, "Don't worry, I'm used to it. So I notice you're not wearing a wedding ring. No special woman at home waiting for you?"

"Nah, most chicks don't get me. They don't understand the vast cosmic wonders that are locked away in my brain, so they tend to get mad at me when I don't do something."

"...vast cosmic wonders? Like what?" Dixie asked, though she couldn't imagine what Thurgood could possibly know that would fall into that category.

"Well, for example, a couple years ago I was dating this chick...well sorta dating...well, OK she was the cashier at the McDonald's near my house. MY POINT is we could been going out, but we weren't, cus she didn't get me. I would stand in line contemplating the existence of food and how it was behind her counter instead of in my belly, and she would get mad at me for thinking. She would actually yell at me for thinking! I bet she was a communist, communists don't like it when you think. Did you know communists can squeeze their bodies down to fit through a hole the size of a quarter? Wait...I think that was rats."

"Well, that's...interesting." Dixie said.

"Yea, the drones said that too when I told them about it. I remember they said something about having to compensate some guy named Heisenberg if I was going to get my food without having to go to a restaurant, which is weird because I don't have the implant that lets me plug my stomach into an outlet so I don't see why they would need to pay anyone."

"You don't have the nutritional augmentation?" Dixie asked in surprise.

"You mean you do?"

"Of course! I don't think I know a single pornographic actress or fashion model that doesn't have one. It's so amazing, I don't get hungry anymore so I don't have to worry about getting fat. I just figured that since you work for the Collective you would have such a useful augmentation."

"I like food too much, plus electricity tastes horrible. Ever lick a wall socket? Let me tell you, it ain't pleasant." Thurgood said with a shudder. "So all you porn stars have one? I thought Jeff said they didn't sell well."

Dixie shrugged, "I guess it depends on what your definition of 'well' is."

"Mass market penetration I would imagine. Though then again since they're in every porn star in America I imagine there is plenty of penetration going on already. UP HIGH!" Thurgood said while holding his hand out waiting for Dixie to high five him.

"Not going to happen Thurgood. Besides I think I've had enough...thought-provoking conversation for one night, I'm heading back to bed." Dixie said as she slowly stood up.

**_Aldrin _Rocket, High Above Brunei June 26, 2069 AD**

**"**Make sure you are properly strapped in Dr. Borg. The _Collins_Rocket is currently receiving repairs because one of the tourists did not follow all of the safety instructions prior to reentering the Earth's atmosphere and she was thrown from her seat damaging several electronic components along with herself." The drone pilot said as he floated around the cockpit, looking at the various display screens.

Jeff let out a groan as he continued checking the various straps, buckles, and safety harnesses around his chair. "Are we going to have to deal with a lawsuit? I thought that's why we made it such a long process to get tied into these seats in the first place, to avoid this exact scenario."

"Because her injuries were deemed life-threatening upon landing, we gave her an emergency dose of nanites to heal the more serious internal injuries she received. A neural transceiver was also constructed in her brain."

"And you don't think that will come back to bite the Collective later? Sure, she won't sue, but what about her family? Someone with enough money to afford a space flight doesn't just randomly decide to give up their individuality." Jeff asked with a raised eyebrow.

"We are aware of that Dr. Borg, which is why we are using this an excellent opportunity to test out the new nanite delivery system. In addition to heal wounds and constructing a neural transceiver, the nanites we injected will also build assimilation tubules in the subject's wrists, which will allow for the injection of nanites into other individuals. Should this test run prove successful, all drones will be upgraded with this augmentation."

"You're going to forcefully assimilate a family into the Collective? That's...different. Really different actually. Yea, I've tricked people into getting implanted before, and yes, we've forcefully assimilated criminals but this...this is a whole new level for you guys." Jeff wasn't entirely pleased with this development, even if he was impressed with how well the drones were handling the situation from a damage control perspective.

"No, it is not different. You said yourself we have assimilated others against their will. We are doing this, just like we did those, for the good of the Collective, for the good of humanity."

"You know what? Fine, I really don't want to argue with you after spending five days stuck in a confined space with Canis Lupus Familiaris." Jeff took a deep, calming breath. "So anything else I should know? Might as well drop all the bombshells on me at once."

"We have constructed and stabilized a quantum computer, though its computational power is severely limited." the pilot said as he floated down to his seat and began strapping himself in.

"How limited are we talking here? Cheap labtop from Wal-Mart? Lobotomized, mentally challenge cockroach? Steam-powered calculator? I'm going to need an approximation to tell the press," Jeff said, taking mental notes.

"You will not need a comparison as poor as any of those. We created a new low order programming language, which we are calling Leap, that is far more efficient than any other language."

"My knowledge of quantum computers is a bit rusty," Jeff reluctantly admitted. "Why does the new language make such a big difference for a quantum computer when it didn't make such a drastic change back when we sold that operating system to Google?"

"Silicon-chip based computers grow in power linearly, following Moore's Law. Quantum computer increase in power quadratically. We have approximated that two years should be how much time it will take us to test and perfect all the necessary infrastructure, programming languages, memory storage, data transfer, et cetera to create a quantum supercomputer."

This was going to make some people rather uneasy, and for once it probably wouldn't be the general public. Quite a couple governments and their militaries would not like a private company having a supercomputer that outclassed anything they could hope to have by several orders of magnitude. The Collective's quantum computer could probably break just about any code or cryptographic system in existence simply by being able to do so many calculations so quickly. Hacking the IRS's database and altering around a few tax laws would be a nice possibility. This had some serious potential, maybe the Collective should just keep quiet about this little project for now. Then again, there were other quantum computers out there but Jeff didn't know where the Collective stood in the quantum computer power hierarchy. If the drone was making such a big deal out of this then it was likely that this discovery would send them to the top of the pack but that wasn't a guarantee.

"I'm the only person that has been told about this, right?" Jeff asked his pilot.

"Correct, we have not yet notified Mr. Jenkins."

"Let's keep it that why for a while, continue developing the quantum computer but don't tell anyone. And try to keep as much of the production in-house as possible, we can't have any leaks. This could be big."

**Author's Note: **_Bit of a short chapter, but it lays down the groundwork for several technologies which will be relevant later on in the story. If you know which technologies, you deserve a cookie._


	9. Chapter 9: Interview With An Idiot

**Interview With An Idiot**

**CNN Interview Room, New York City March 2, 2071 AD**

Walter Koenig was at a loss for how to handle his current situation. He was a news anchor for CNN, not an interviewer. Walter would sit behind his desk and talk to the camera, when an interview was required he would direct his viewers to whomever was conducting the interview. He did not understand why his boss had insisted he be the one to interview Thurgood Jenkins. Walter was also confused as to why there was an interview taking place at all. Normally, the Collective's PR representative would give a speech and answer any questions afterwords. To Walter's knowledge, Thurgood had never done a back and forth interview before.

Walter glanced up from his note cards to watch Thurgood unsuccessfully try to get the cork out of a bottle of wine. The man was wrenching the bottle back and forth, unable to get his fingers to grasp the cork very well. Walter had to wonder how Thurgood could bring a bottle of wine and two glasses to the interview and yet forget a corkscrew. Walter shook his head and glanced at his watch, the interview was supposed to start ten minutes ago but Thurgood has insisted they have something to drink first. It was a good thing this wasn't going to be a live broadcast. Not that Walter should have been surprised at Thurgood's antics, the man had shown up to the interview in a Hawaiian shirt, bell-bottom jeans, and flip flops. Image of professionalism, the man was not.

Walter understood the basics of what would be covered in the interview and he had been given permission to go off topic if he wished. Then again, it was a well known fact that Thurgood could go off on a ten minute tangent without ever saying anything of value so maybe it would be best to try to stay on topic as much as possible.

Walter's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of glass breaking. He quickly looked up to see that Thurgood had smashed the top of the wine bottle against the table which held their glasses. While a fair amount of wine had spilled onto the floor there was still enough left in the bottle for Thurgood to pour both of them a glass. Walter glanced around at his camera crew, all of which had the same confused should-we-do-something look on their faces.

"Alright!" Thurgood said as he handed Walter a now full glass of red wine. "Let's get this interview underway. Cheers."

"Right," Walter said as he took a sip from his glass and tried not to grimace. He didn't expect Thurgood to have expensive tastes but that stuff was foul. "I am Walter Koenig, here today with Thurgood Jenkins, co-Chief Marketing Officer of the Borg Collective. So before we get into the nitty gritty of the interview, I notice your job title has changed."

"You got that right Dubya, I got promoted. Bigger paycheck, better parking spot and everything. Before, I was a subordinate to Dr. Borg, now we're equal." Thurgood said he fidgeted in his chair.

"Any particular reason for the promotion?"

Finally finding a comfortable position, Thurgood settled down in the chair as he said, "Dr. B is getting old. He's been thinking about retiring, or at least semi-retiring. So I'm slowing going to take his place, kinda like jello. I ooze into position and once I'm there you can't get rid of me...unless you eat me, but that would be cannibalism which is just wrong."

"Yes, I'm sure we can all agree that cannibalism is bad," Walter said while hoping Thurgood wasn't about to make an oral sex joke.

"You know what's even worse than cannibalism? I'll tell you what: the letter Q. It is the most lewd of all the letters."

Walter knew he was going to regret asking but for the sake of moving the conversation along he had to do it. "You think the letter Q is worse than cannibalism...why?"

Thurgood leaned forward in his chair and looked at the camera crew suspiciously, all of whom decided to suddenly look elsewhere when they noticed him. Satisfied that they weren't going to listen in on the conversation (which didn't make any sense since Thurgood had a microphone attached to his shirt which would record everything he said) Thurgood whispered, "Because it isn't really a Q, it's the letter O with its penis out. It's all part of a giant conspiracy by a secret order of nudists designed to make everyone more accepting of not wearing clothing. Do you have any idea how long the English language has been around? And we've been using Q all that time, so many important documents were written with naked letters. It is terrifying what society has come to."

Wondering which one of his bosses he had pissed off to warrant this interview, because there was no other explanation as to why he would get stuck with this assignment, Walter nodded as Thurgood sat back in his chair.

"So tell me Mr. Jenkins, why is it that you decided to conduct an interview instead of a press conference, which has been the standard practice for the Collective when releasing news on their latest developments since the company was founded?"

"Because I wanted to do something different. Standing at a podium looking at a sea of faces is just so boring, none of them are happy to be there. Everyone wants their news quickly so that they can take it back and edit it to get it out quicker than the other guy. This way I have someone to talk to and you don't have to feel jealous about the other reporters, it's a win-win." Thurgood said while sipping his drink.

"And I am very glad to have this exclusive interview with you. Speaking of, let's get to the main reason for said interview. Tell the world about the Collective's most recent discovery."

"Well, the scientists have discovered something amazing, so amazing that I had to tell someone about it before I was technically allowed to. Luckily, the someone I told was the ghost of Ronald Reagan and he promised he wouldn't tell anyone. When the Great Communicator gives you his word, you believe him. But anyway, now I'm allowed to tell people so that's why I'm here. So, the news is that the Collective has discovered another dimension."

Deciding to ignore the fact that Thurgood just said he had talked to a ghost, Walter asked, "Now for the people at home that aren't that into sci-fi, can you explain what makes this such a big deal?"

"I certainly can, well I probably can, depends on how much of this wine I've had to drink." Thurgood said as he drank what was left in his glass. As he attempted to refill his glass with the broken wine bottle he continued, "So this new dimension, which has been dubbed subspace, should allow for faster-than-light travel and communication which would enable us to go out and explore space. I'll give you a minute to let that sink in."

"Well actually, I already knew about it because you guys sent me the notes beforehand so I wouldn't be totally clueless during this interview."

"Oh...I meant your audience, yea that's it, the audience."

"We aren't live, this is going to be edited later for commercials so I doubt anyone will want to watch you just sitting there in silence."

"Fine! Move it along then."

"So as I understand things. You don't know with 100% certainty that subspace exists," Walter said, double checking his notes as he did so.

"That's technically true, we haven't sent anything into subspace yet. It was only discovered when our quan...some drones were going over calculations for the newest impulse rocket engine and they noticed everything didn't add up. The only way they could get the math to work was if subspace existed. Which doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me, when I think about it. How do a bunch of numbers show the existence of another dimension? And what sort of Lovecraftian problems could they be trying to solve that required the use of another dimension to work correctly? Two plus two equals four regardless of where the calculation is done, I don't really see how this is any different."

"I am the wrong person to be asking, I never did well in math classes in school. That sort of advanced theoretical math is way beyond my ability to understand it."

"Man, tell me about it! One time I asked Dr. B why the _Fountain _couldn't go faster to carry stuff into space. Sure, the elevator is handy to take cargo but for people it's just a pain. He went on this long rant about the math clearly showed it was dangerous because of possible impacts, harmonic vibrations, inertia, and other big words I don't remember."

"So tell us more about subspace and the Collective's plan for it."

"Well like I said, according to the math that the drones did, it should be possible to send messages, people, and even space ships through subspace. Apparently it requires a big amount of power though. Like really big, like one of our mega-power plants big. How we are going to get a power plant into space I'm not really sure, but we'll figure something out. As for our plans, we plan to explore space and set up colonies. Heck, we already have a location on the moon picked out and crews are currently being assembled to start construction on the C.H.E.E.S.E."

"You're referring to the..." Walter glanced down at his notes, "Copernicus Hosting Environment and Experiment in Scientific Engineering, right?"

"Yea, hence why we shortened it to C.H.E.E.S.E. Dr. B wanted to call the base Luna/X but I felt that made it sound like a location in a porno."

"So what will the Collective be doing at C.H.E.E.S.E.?" Walter could not believe he just said that out loud. He was a professional news anchor and had just been forced to ask what an international high-tech development firm was going to do at cheese.

"Exactly what it says on the tin dude. We're going to host various experiments about science in our tightly controlled environments. I have no idea what a Copernicus is though, Dr. B added that part after I vetoed Luna/X."

"Right, so when will C.H.E.E.S.E. be finished?"

"Assuming everything remains on schedule, it will take a little over two years. After that humanity will have its first permanent settlement off the Earth...though I suppose the living quarters in the Zenith could be considered permanent. Sounds like something for philosophers to discuss. 'What makes a settlement permanent?' That is why we pay them after all, to debate important things like whether or not we really exist or if we only think we exist."

"The Collective has philosophers on staff?" Walter asked in surprise.

"What? No! That would be a waste of time and money."

"But you just said you pay them..."

"Yea, with my taxes. Haven't you ever looked at where so many colleges get their money from? Government grants."

"Ah," Walter said, not wanting to start a political discussion. "So C.H.E.E.S.E. is going to be research station for the Collective, have you given any thought to opening a resort of some kind on the Moon? I'm sure there must be thousands, if not millions, of people that would love to go there."

"I suppose that's a possibility, but it seems unlikely, at least at the moment. We're not making a lot of money with the current space tours we offer so it seems unlikely that we would get a lot of customers that would want to go all the way to the Moon." Thurgood said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Maybe people prefer having ground underneath their feet? Makes them feel safer I would imagine."

Thurgood shrugged, "I have no idea, that's something for Jeff and the drones to worry about. At the moment I've been spending most of my free time writing my book."

"Oh you're writing a book? What's it about?"

"The current title is 'How To Not Kill Your Teddy Bear and Other Cooking Tips' but I'm feel that's a little long. 'Eating Out With Rasputin' is another possibility I'm considering."

"So...the book is going to be about food...somehow?"

Thurgood stared blankly at Walter, "No. Why on Earth would it be about food?"

"Yea you're right, I don't know what I was thinking there. Thurgood, do you personally, or the Collective as a whole, have any opinions on the collective that was recently formed in China? They were able to create one remarkably quickly after they had announced that they wanted to start one."

"The Chinese live by this funny motto, 'If at first you don't succeed, destroy all evidence that you tried.' So if you think they managed to create neural transceivers on their first attempt, you are mistaken."

"Well no...I mean, sure logically this isn't their first attempt but still-"

"Furthermore, the only reason they were able to get anything right in the first place was because they were kidnapping Borg drones! Now I get that I don't often pay attention to the big picture, Jeff tells me that a lot, but I still think allowing all those poor drones to get kidnapped was just mean on our part. Sure, we needed the materials they were giving us and we were assimilating more people in Africa then we were losing in China, but we still allowed them to die! And I kept quiet about it! I'm going to hell and be stuck with people I don't like for all eternity...Adolf Hitler...John Wayne Gacy...Hillary Clinton..." Thurgood finished his rant by putting his head in his hands and staring sadly at the floor.

Walter sat in stunned silence after Thurgood's outburst. He hadn't known about drones in China disappearing, though Thurgood was right that the information was publicly available. After someone got assimilated, it was common for non-assimilated family members to not associate with them anymore. That being said, it was also common for the families to want the bodies back after the drone died so when the body couldn't be returned it would usually cause a bit of a stir and the local police and/or lawyers might get involved.

Finally, Walter decided he had to say something. "You're saying the Chinese government has been kidnapping drones to look at the hardware in their bodies?"

"Yea, Dr. B said it was a cost of doing business in a country with a controlling government which I suppose is true. Can't fault evil for being evil. What I can find fault with is my keeping quiet about it," Thurgood said glumly.

Walter really wasn't sure what he should do. He had never witnessed someone having a mental breakdown before, especially one that sprang up that quickly. Should he try to comfort Thurgood or should he see how much footage he could wring out of this situation? Whose side was the public going to take? After several minutes of inner debate, Walter decided that while the Collective might be viewed as a heartless corporation after this aired, Thurgood would probably end up appearing as a victim and Walter needed place up the sympathy angle.

"There there Thurgood," Walter said as he reached over and patted Thurgood on the shoulder. "There was nothing you could have done. If Dr. Borg knew about the drones dying, then who else could you have told?"

"I could have told the Mr. Sprinkles, my secretary! He always knows how to fix whatever problem I have."

"You have a secretary? I thought only you and Dr. Borg were the only normal people working directly for the Collective..."

"Well yea, Mr. Sprinkles is a drone. He's got this new body armor that is really shiny all over and he never gets dirty. He looks kinda like the liquid metal guy from Terminator."

Walter could feel the gears in his head starting to slowly grind to a halt while he processed what Thurgood said. "OK, wait. Drones are getting killed in China, and you want to tell a drone about that so that he will do something to stop it. Shouldn't he already know about it since he's...a drone? Isn't he on the same neural network as the ones that die?"

"Oh," Thurgood said with surprise. He looked up from the floor and stared at Walter for several seconds. "Wow! You're right, I totally forgot about that. I guess there really wasn't anything I could have done. Actually, that totally explains why I overheard Dr. B talking to Mr. Sprinkles about installing a self destruct feature in all the drones. Alright, lets get back to this interview." As he finished speaking Thurgood straightened his shirt and leaned back in his chair with a smile on his face.

"Uh...well OK, moving on then." Talk about mood whiplash, how did people stay sane around Thurgood? Walter was going to need a strong drink when this interview was over. "Let's step away from the Collective for a while and talk about you as a person. Tell me, what does Thurgood do on his days off?"

"It really depends on what drug I'm on. If I smoked some weed, I ain't doing nothing except philosophizing. Well, there was that one time my house caught on fire, then I did something though I don't remember what. Probably called the fire department. But yea, philosophizing is what I usually do. For instance, did you know if you spell Oreo out loud it sounds like you're actually saying Oreo? I didn't, until one day I did. You can't unlearn something like that, it sticks with you. Now if I've been drinking heavily then I'm not a very nice person and don't like philosophizing at all, apparently I'm an angry drunk. Heck, one of my favorite things to do while drinking in the summer is to go watch marathon runners."

"You go there to...yell at the runners?" Walter asked, confused as to what an angry drunk would do at a marathon.

"Nah, I just like watching the reaction of the runners when they grab my plastic cup of vodka."

"Wow, that's...vicious. Let's talk about something less, well less evil. Is there anyone special in your life right now? I understand you made it onto _People_**'**s most eligible bachelor list last year somehow." The last word was said under his breath, Walter hoped Thurgood hadn't caught it.

"Nah, I don't have much luck with women. They have a nasty habit of breaking my heart. There is only so many times you can take that kind of pain before you just give up. It's almost as bad as the pain you get when you accidentally staple your tongue to a wall which, I don't need to tell you I'm sure, is REALLY painful."

"How did you accidentally staple your tongue to a wall?" Walter asked in shock.

"I was putting up wallpaper in my house and wasn't paying attention. It's not big deal, those sorts of things just happen. Like when I was trying to overclocked my microwave and I kinda irradiated the apartment complex I was living in at the time."

"Maybe home repair just isn't for you. Perhaps you should just hire an expert next time you want something done around your house," Walter suggested.

"Hey, amateurs built the Ark but professionals built the Titanic. You should never be afraid to try something yourself," Thurgood said defensively.

"I suppose that is one way to look at it," Walter said. "But then again professionals don't typically damage a microwave to the point that Environmental Control gets called in."

"I know! And how boring is that? If it wasn't for people like me, those guys would get lazy sitting around in their offices. I made sure they earned their paychecks that day."

Deciding he didn't want to lose any more brain cells, Walter changed the subject. "Let's go back to the Collective. I understand there is talk of building an asteroid repulsion system of some kind, care to comment?"

"At the moment it's a lot like our subspace research in that we don't have a working prototype. We have blueprints for a giant magnet...thingy that would allow us to repel anything that comes near it, but its has limited range and giant power requirements. We would have to build tons of them in various locations around the globe to fully protect us. It's really just an idea that got tossed around the office and some drones decided to look at it a bit closer to see if it was worth constructing. As it is, I doubt we're ever going to see widespread use of the whatchawhosit."

"Have you not decided on a name yet or do you just not remember what the project is called?"

"...yes," Thurgood said uncomfortably while not looking directly at any of the cameras.

Walter noticed he was fidgeting in his seat quite a bit. Huh, apparently Thurgood could get embarrassed though Walter had no idea why, out of all the things that had been said during the interview, that that question would be the cause of it. Maybe Thurgood was used to be considered an "expert" on the Borg and didn't like people knowing he was apparently just as clueless as everyone else? No, that didn't make any sense because Thurgood has always been a cloudcuckoolander whenever a camera was on him so he clearly didn't care what other people thought...and Walter's musings were suddenly interrupted when Thurgood lifted a leg up and loudly farted.

"Whew, glad to finally get that out. I was worried it was more than a fart but it nice to see I don't know what my own body is doing," Thurgood said as he stretched in his chair before settling back down into a comfortable position.

OK, so Thurgood hadn't been embarrassed, he just needed to fart. Walter couldn't contain the sigh that escaped his lips, maybe it was time to think about retiring.

"Alright," Walter began. "So...so...so let's take a break. I need to go...eat something."

"Fo shizzle my rizzle. I'll be here, chatting with the camera men till you get back." Walter noticed some of the crew got terrified looks on their faces at Thurgood's proclamation.

Walter got out of his chair and walked out into the hallway. He could only stand there and stare at the wall. Technically, Thurgood was answering his questions and some of the answers even made sense but damn that man was driving him nuts. Walter was curious as to whether Thurgood was acting this way just to get reactions out of people or if he really was this nuts. Walter honestly wasn't sure which one he preferred it to be. If it was the former then Thurgood deserved an Oscar because he sold the part, you really believed he was that scatterbrained. If it was the latter Walter had to wonder how someone that stupid could survive for so long. Could Thurgood walk and chew gum at the same time? Did he ever forget to breathe? What kind of parents did he have growing up? Walter just shook his head and stared at the wall, hoping it would explode or something, at least then he wouldn't have to go back in and continue the interview.

Suddenly a deep voice jarred Walter from his thought, "You finished the interview already?"

Walter turned and saw his boss, Michael Dorn, stepping out of the elevator. "Uh no sir, just stepped out for a bit to collect my thought while Thurgood took a bit of a break."

Michael nodded, "Very understandable, Thurgood is not an easy person to deal with. Just don't stand out here too long, we need an hour's worth of footage and it's hard enough keeping Thurgood on subject, even harder if you aren't in the room with him."

"Yes sir, I know. Before you go though, I have a question."

"Certainly."

"Why am I the one conducting this interview?" Walter asked. He was upset at how whiny the question sounded coming out of his mouth. He hoped Michael wouldn't comment on it.

"Because everyone else refused. When the Collective contacted us saying they were willing to have a one-on-one interview, they gave us a list of people they approved to do the interview. If you had refused then they would have gone to Fox or CBS or someone so that why I didn't give you the option of refusing. We could not lose an exclusive interview to one of the most powerful men on the planet," Michael answered sternly.

"Don't you think you're exaggerating a little? Sure, Thurgood works for one of the most important companies on the planet but to call him important just seems a little much."

"Oh I'm sorry, do you know other non-assimilated people that work for the Collective with access to their high level plans? Because I was only aware of Thurgood and Dr. Borg. Please, enlighten me as to your secret sources that no other news agency is aware of so that we can bring them down here for an interview," Michael finished his little speech by crossing his arms over his chest and staring down his nose at Walter. "Well? I'm waiting."

It was at times like this that Walter really hated being so short and having such a tall boss. Michael was built like a linebacker and when he got angry it was intimidating. "No, sorry sir. I just meant-"

"You meant that you had wasted enough time out here in the hallway and were going to go back and finish the interview."

Walter sighed, defeated. "Yes, that was what I meant."

"Glad to hear it Walter," Michael said as he walked down the hall, probably to his office. Walter enviously watched him go. Michael got to go sit in a fancy office and drink whiskey; Walter had to sit under hot camera lights while drinking horrible wine and talking to a man that probably did not possess a functioning brain stem.

Walter pushed open the door to the studio immediately noticed the camera crew looking anywhere but at Thurgood, who was glancing confusingly at the various men in the room but otherwise looked just like when Walter had left the room.

"Alright, Thurgood you ready to get back to the interview?" Walter asked as he sat down.

"Totally, though while you were gone I was thinking to myself, 'this interview has been going really good, but it ain't quite awesome yet.' So you know what I decided would make this even better? Freeballin' it."

"I...er, wait...what?" Walter glanced around at the camera crew all of whom were avoiding eye contact. "You stripped down and took off your underwear in here? That isn't sanitary! And the cameras are still on! Plus there's broken glass all over the place!"

"You need to chillax dude, it ain't no big thang. Though I will concede the point about the broken glass, probably should have thought my plan through a bit more. Pretty sure the sharp pain in my foot is a shard full of owie." Thurgood said he stretched his left leg out and wiggled his foot.

Walter couldn't even form words at the moment. He just sat there and glared at Thurgood while trying to keep his left eye from twitching too much. This was probably how aneurysms happened. Walter was reminded of a motivational poster he saw at his first job at McDonalds however many years ago, 'Stress: A condition caused by repressing the body's desire to strangle the living daylights out of some jerk who desperately deserves it.'

"Well I figure why be difficult, when with just a little bit of effort, I can be impossible?" Thurgood said while smiling at the cameras.

If he killed Thurgood, how many years would he have to spend in prison? If it was less than twenty it would be worth it. Maybe he could get the camera crew to help him hide the body. Except, if Walter did that he wouldn't be able to finish the interview and then he would get fired. The responsibilities of being a responsible adult sucked. Actually...now that he thought about it, maybe that was why Thurgood was the way he was. Thurgood had been working for the Collective for decades now, they paid him well and took care of his expenses and all he had to do was deflect questions in press conferences. Thurgood had never learned how to take care of himself or how to be an adult. He was a middle-aged man-child.

"Besides, there ain't nothing wrong with the cameras seeing a little skin. Something to consider: you are what someone, possibility several someones, out there thinks about when they masturbate. I figure I might as well do them a favor and show off the goods, even if you don't put it on the air now if they are willing to work hard enough they can find footage of my dangle."

"That is...sort of sweet and really _really _creepy to think about," Walter said after several seconds of thought.

"That's what I'm here for."

Walter wasn't sure what Thurgood meant by that. Maybe if he tried to hurry Thurgood through the interview that would force him to stay on topic so that there could get enough footage to end the interview early.

Walter got his note cards out of his pocket to see where they had left off. "The Collective has opened quite a lot of banks in America over the past decade and they have done quite well, care to comment on the success of that franchise?"

"That sounds like it would require a very mathematical answer, money and big numbers. Maybe it's because we're based out of Brunei or maybe its because the drones talk to each other so they don't make mistakes when making calculations. I don't really know, its too complicated. I don't even have an account with our bank, its easier to keep my money in the sofa for safe keeping," Thurgood answered with a shrug.

"You probably shouldn't do that Thurgood."

"Why not? It gains pretty good interest."

"What? How does that even work?"

"When people come over, they keep losing their change in my couch."

With a shake of his head, Walter asked his next question, originally he had planned to skip the political discussion but now Walter decided to test the water and see what happened. "There is a bill currently in the Senate, which has already passed through the House of Representatives, that would greatly increase welfare benefits and well as provide housing for those in need. Both you and Dr. Borg have publicly come out again that bill rather vocally. Why are you against helping the poor?"

"You know," Thurgood began, "if you think you have a right to food, a place to live, and medical attention you should be aware the slavery does provide for all of that. Though I seem to remember that America fought a war to end it. I can't speak for Dr. B but I fail to see why I should pay for someone else to live comfortably if they aren't going to work."

"Didn't you arrive in a limousine driven by a drone? Come to think of it, you live in a Collective provided apartment complex and they don't all your shopping for you?" Walter asked incredulously.

"Yea, and you will notice that I have a job, I contribute to society. Those are perks that I get because I work. Similarly, if instead of sucking up tax dollars all those people came to the Collective and got jobs then they would be getting all of the same things as they get in the bill PLUS they would be working."

"Well I suppose that's true, but then they would have to get neural transceivers implanted and not everyone wants to lose their individuality."

"So instead I have to cut down on my weed smoking because they insist on stealing my money?"

"Well yes...wait what do you mean stealing?"

"If I don't pay my taxes the government will come and lock me up. They then use the money they took from me and give it to someone else. If I threatened to lock you up unless you give me money so that I can give it to someone else, I would be arrested for theft. I say we arrest the government for stealing."

"The legal system doesn't quite work like that."

"It should! If the law said that if you don't work then you don't eat then we would have one heck of a productive society. Just think about it, everyone hard at work because if they didn't then they starve, that is motivation. And don't tell me it wouldn't work, Jeff said it would and he's a lot smarter than either of us."

Ah, so Dr. Borg is responsible for Thurgood's opinions. That explained a few things. Still, the conversation had not gone in the direction Walter had hoped so he had to move things forward if this interview was ever going to end. "Where do you see yourself and the Collective in the future? Say twenty years, what is your plan?"

"Hmmm," Thurgood said while stroking his chin in an overly dramatic fashion. "Well the Collective will probably be doing the same thing it's doing now, looking for ways to help humanity expand past our limitations. As for meself...if I no longer work for the Collective then I think world domination sounds like fun."

"World domination? You would try to take over the world?" Walter paused as he let what he just said sink in. Thurgood didn't seem fazed by Walter's sarcasm. "You? Thurgood Jenkins?"

"Well if I took over the world I obviously wouldn't keep that name, not nearly bad-ass enough. I'd change it to something like 'Lucrezia von Morgenstern' or 'Luke Kane Cypher' though I'm kinda leaning towards 'Lord Nergal, Master of All That He Sees' at the moment."

"Somehow, I just can't picture that happening"

"Oh well let me help you with that," Thurgood said with a big grin on his face as he began gesturing widely. "I'd wear big spiky cybernetic armor that the Collective would design for me with a big flowing black cape. I'd speak in a deep booming voice and carry a scepter that shoots laser beams and stuff. I'd ride an evil war horse named Nightmare Moon and my second-in-command will be a giant talking gorilla named Killbane. And when the hero finds my one weakness and stops me I'll shout 'COOOBRA' because that's what you do when you rule the world."

"I see," Walter deadpanned. On the one hand he didn't want to encourage Thurgood's delusions since the man did wield a fair bit of power and could do some serious damage to the economy if he ever went nuts, on the other hand this was the first time during the interview he had found Thurgood genuinely entertaining instead of annoying. Thurgood seemed like a little kid that wanted to take over the world so he could abolish bedtime, outlaw girls, that sort of thing. "Where would you get the army necessary to take over the world? And how would the logistics of all this work exactly. Ruling the world would require a lot of managerial skills."

"You shouldn't let small details like armies or skill get in your way. I mean look at me, I don't even know where I'm going with this argument! That's how dedicated I am to ignoring little things and focusing on the big picture. Namely, that I will one day be the Evil Overlord of Earth."

"You certainly don't lack for confidence."

"Aim for the moon, that way even if you miss you at least land among the stars."

"That almost sounded profound," Walter said suspiciously.

"I read it in a fortune cookie."

"I see, that explains that then. Well for my next question-"

Thurgood continue as if he hadn't heard Walter, "Which didn't make any sense to me. A fortune cookie should have a fortune in it. 'You will find true love on Flag day' or something. Instead, I get some weird feel-good motivational poster saying. That's not a fortune, that's advice, and I don't want my food giving my advice. What right does my food have to judge me? I saw that cookie's yearbook, it was a slut in high school and yet it has the nerve to tell me how to live my life? Screw that, food is supposed to tell me my future and fill my belly, nothing else."

"Are you done?"

"Not quite. So airline food, what's up with that? Amiright? Eh? Eh?" Thurgood finished speaking with an overly cheesy smile and repeatedly jabbing his elbow at Walter.

"You're actively trying to be annoying and create a bunch of footage we can't possibly use, aren't you?" Walter said as he rubbed his eyes in frustration.

"That doesn't seem like something I would do. Jeff certainly, but not me."

Walter sighed, he wasn't going to get out of this anytime soon. No matter what he tried to do, Thurgood's mind would wander off in some odd direction. Might as well stop fighting it and just accept the hand that fate had dealt him. What was the worst that could happen?

"So Dubya, have I told you about the new fad diet I recently tried? It's the Coney Diet, you can only eat something if a rabbit would eat it. I did it for two months but I quit when I realized I was never gonna get back down to my original weight. I suppose seven pounds two ounces was an unrealistic goal anyway."

Walter hated his life.

**Author's Note: **_So I tried to give Thurgood a couple of lucid moments in this chapter to show that he has (somewhat) matured. Any thoughts? Did it work or is that taking away from his goofball antics?_


	10. Chapter 10: Whey To Be A Downer

**Author's Note: **_I refuse to apologize for the title, I don't care that it's a grating pun. _

**Whey To Be A Downer**

**C.H.E.E.S.E, Earth's Moon October 15, 2077 AD**

Gravity was a truly unusual thing when you stopped and thought about it. It was one of the four fundamental forces of the universe and was simultaneously so strong and yet so weak. Something as simple as a balloon filled with helium could overcome gravity, yet light and even time had to bend under its power.

Gravity is also vital to human survival; when exposed to a lack of gravity for long periods of time the human body loses blood, muscle mass, and bone mass. It takes the human body approximately three years of heavy exercise to return to normal health after spending six months in space. As such the Collective had spent ample time and money looking into some way to create gravity for use in starships. If this problem was not solved humanity might eventually travel to other worlds but would be unable to land on any of them. The sudden shift of weightlessness back to normal was not healthy, it put a lot of strain on the body. Granted, nanites could combat the atrophy as it occurred but that didn't mean the gravity issue was solved. Space travel was incredibly dangerous, there needed to be redundancies and back ups in every system, gravity included. As such, the Collective had developed two different possible methods of generating gravity in their starships and as much as it pained him to admit it, Jeff had no idea how either of them worked. Sure, the drones had explained to him how both methods functioned but he was simply unable to wrap his head around the ideas they were presenting him with and asking for clarification was just...unthinkable. He was Doctor Jeffrey Borg, certifiable genius, he was not some idiot that needed every explanation spoon fed to him...he just didn't understand manipulation of gravity that's all. Jeff knew that one of the systems had something to do with electrical fields influencing superconductive magnets...or was that both of them? Maybe one used electrical fields and the other used magnets? Whatever the case, Jeff had spent so much time handling public relations for the Collective that his brain just wasn't up to the task of learning was all. Yea, that was it. He was turning eighty two in December after all, even with the various implants the Collective had given him over the years, some level of brain decay was inevitable.

Speaking of brain decay, what was the Collective's opinion on that Norwegian lady? She had voluntarily gotten implanted a few months ago but her father had some kind of shady connections because she had been kidnapped from the Collective compound where she was working and her neural transceiver had been surgically removed. And because the surgeon apparently had a brain the size of a blefuscu his 'skills' had resulted in the lady becoming a vegetable (then again, this was the first removal of a neural transceiver that didn't kill the drone so maybe the surgeon wasn't totally incapable). Not only was she brain dead, but because she was no longer a part of the Collective the drones didn't want to waste resources making sure her implants remained functional so her organs were beginning to shut down. The father was trying to raise support about how the _evil_Collective had taken advantage of his poor daughter after she had just gotten out of drug rehab and was therefore susceptible to the suggestion of becoming a drone and now they weren't willing to help keep his girl alive after butchering her body. Quite frankly, Jeff was amazed the man had the intelligence to manipulate the facts so well. The man looked like a tree-swinger that had only recently descended to the ground in search of the secret of fire. The kind of person with such an overbite that when he ate toast he finished the outer edge first. Thurgood was going to have to go visit the family when they returned to Earth to attempt to smooth things over; Jeff would have to remind him not to wear a watch when he did so, they would probably be mystified by shiny objects.

Jeff glanced over at Thurgood who was taking a long draw from a joint. The first thing Thurgood did after they had exited the Glenn Rocket was to pull out paper and marijuana from one of his pockets and roll a cigarette. Jeff was actually somewhat impressed since Thurgood did the entire procedure while they walked down the hallway without stopping and hadn't spilled any on the ground. It wasn't like there was anything else to do, it was a long walk from the shuttleport to the one of the research centers in C.H.E.E.S.E. The hallway was certainly not designed with any kind of ambiance in mind, it was incredibly minimalistic. It reminded Jeff of an old, poorly illuminated military hangar, the ceiling had to be at least thirty feet above his head and the floor was concrete. Drones were traveling back and forth carrying containers of various sizes, Jeff thought he saw a forklift way down the hallway. He wondered if this is what it was like at airports for the workers that had to move all the luggage around.

Jeff was curious why the Collective had bothered putting the majority of C.H.E.E.S.E. underground. After all, they were on the freaking Moon. There weren't any nosy neighbors, protestors, or corporate spies that might come poking around and screw up an experiment. Granted, anyone on Earth with a sufficiently advanced telescope could probably find the shuttleport but it wasn't like they would be able to look in a window and read research notes. Maybe the Collective was thinking long term, eventually a lunar colony consisting of people besides drones would probably be established and this way they wouldn't have to do any drastic alterations to the infrastructure to ensure privacy. Then again, maybe it had something to do with the Outer Space Treaty though Jeff wasn't quite sure what. Articles I and II said that no one could claim the Moon (or other celestial bodies for that matter) and that they "shall be free for exploration and use by all States without discrimination of any kind" so maybe the Collective was worried about other countries using that explanation to force their way to look at what the Collective was working on? Except the wording of those Articles implies they are only supposed to apply to States, not private companies, so the Collective would probably win a court case against anyone trying to force their way into C.H.E.E.S.E. Article VI said the national government of non-governmental entities would be responsible for their actions in space, but since the Collective now claimed Brunei, rather than the United States, as its home country they didn't have to worry about governmental oversight so that wasn't an issue at least. Maybe they were concerned about the Moon Treaty which declared all celestial bodies the property of the international community? Except that Treaty hadn't been ratified by any space-faring countries so it didn't have any legal weight.

Jeff suddenly had to wave his hand in front of his face to clear the air as Thurgood blew out the smoke he had been holding in. "So J-dawg, did I tell you that I bought a racehorse last week?"

"No you didn't, and frankly I'm immediately concerned for the well-being of the horse. I cannot imagine you owning an animal. That is a big responsibility, you can barely take care of yourself."

"Oh, that's all taken care of. The Collective already has a jokey picked out and a team of vegetarians to make sure it stays healthy."

"You mean veterinarians."

"No, I don't think any of them served in the military.

Jeff sighed and shook his head. "Alright Thurgood, _why _did you buy a racehorse?"

"So I could name him 'Oscar Takes the Lead' obviously."

Jeff thought about that for a moment. "You spent thousands of dollars on a horse, as well who knows how much more money you will have to spend taking care of it in the future, just to screw with the people listening to horse races?"

"And you say I'm bad with money," Thurgood said smugly. "I'd say this was a worthwhile investment."

"Remember when you hired two private investigators to follow each other? I consider this about on the same level."

"Oh come on, that was funny. It took them two months to figure it out."

"Whatever, it's your money. Spend it how you like," Jeff said, not feeling like arguing about Thurgood's lack of financial restraint.

"So why are we on the Moon?" Thurgood asked after several minutes of walking.

"We had this discussion three times already, how do you keep forgetting?"

"I dunno, though I imagine this has something to do with it." Thurgood said while holding up his joint.

"Thurgood, you have smoked yourself retarded."

"Seems like a good possibility, but you didn't answer my question."

"Primarily, we are here to examine the Collective's newest artificial gravity generators. Should the mood strike us there are also several other experiments we can check in on. I want to at least look at the Struldbrug and Ketteract Projects before returning to Earth," Jeff explained.

"The who what projects?" Thurgood asked. "Those were not English words."

"Nevermind, you will just forget anything I tell you so I'm not going to waste valuable brain power thinking up a way to dumb down the explanation to a point that you will comprehend it."

"But I thought you liked a challenge. You're just giving up on providing me info? I might need to know this stuff for work."

"Thurgood, you are really good at your job but if you ever had an informed thought it died of loneliness. In fact, you knowing 'stuff' will probably hurt, not help, your ability to do your job."

"Alright, so if I follow what you're saying..." Thurgood paused and stared blankly at Jeff's face for a few seconds. Jeff wondered if Thurgood had followed the conversation at all or if he was going to go off on a random tangent. "...You think I'm stupid." Huh, Thurgood actually stayed on topic.

"If, at any point, I ever think of you as smart Thurgood, chaos theory dictates that I would shat a diamond in my pants."

"You know, I feel like I should be mad at you...but you make a pretty good point. Kinda hard for me to argue against hard science like that. Let me know if you ever find that diamond. We can sell it and take the money to Vegas. I went to a fortune teller a little while ago and she told me my lucky numbers, I wanna play those while they're still hot."

"Yes well unfortunately for whatever casino you are sure to lose your shirt in, I don't expect to be defecating a diamond anytime soon so a trip to Vegas is not in my foreseeable future." Jeff said while trying to ignore the mental image of what pooping a diamond would do to one's intestines.

"Loki damn it," Thurgood muttered.

"Blaspheming of your gods will have to wait, we're here...I think."

'Here' turned out to be an opening in the wall. Jeff would have called it a doorway except he didn't see a door, not even a spot where it could slid out of the wall. Shouldn't C.H.E.E.S.E. be designed like a submarine or ship with sealable hatches in case of a breach? Considering how long that hallway was he and Thurgood had just walked down, it would make sense to make the area self contained. So long as it didn't happen while he was here, Jeff supposed it wasn't that important. Stepping through the hole, Jeff and Thurgood found themselves in what appeared to be a fabrication shop. Drones were standing around operating machines to create sheets of metal in various shapes and sizes. Jeff had to wonder about the justifications for it all, was it really more economically feasible to ship raw materials to the Moon and then alter them instead of shipping the finished parts to the Moon? Economies-of-scale wasn't Jeff's area of expertise so it probably wasn't worth worrying about, the drones certainly knew more about certain subjects than Jeff did so it made sense that economics would be one of them. Then again, assuming the drone at the spaceport had given them correct directions, the Collective had decided to test artificial gravity generators right next to a bunch of fast moving machinery so maybe they weren't as quite as smart as Jeff was giving them credit for. Maybe there was a virus on the neural network? Could they have been distracted millions of time per minute by the beauty of computing pi and so forgot about basic safety standards? Something to ponder on the shuttle ride home.

"We were told this was the way to the Galilei and Newton Experiments. Is that correct?" Jeff asked the nearest drone.

The drone stopped pushing buttons of the machine it was standing next to and turned to face the pair. Jeff noticed that this drone looked significantly different from any other drone he had seen before. For starters, the drone was fat. It wasn't morbidly obese but there were definite rolls underneath its chin. The nutritional augmentation should have corrected any weight problems that drone had prior to assimilation. The second thing Jeff noticed was the drone's skin color, or rather its lack of skin color. The skin was totally white, not peach color like someone of European descent, but full-on eggshell white with black veins visible in places underneath the skin. Jeff would have assumed the drone was simply an albino except its eyes were brown and what remained of its long matted hair was red. This drone reminded Jeff of a walking corpse more than anything else.

"Yes Dr. Borg, the directions you were given are correct. Continue through this room and you will find the Galilei and Newton Experiments at the bottom of the stairs."

"Thanks tubby," Thurgood said as he began walking ahead of Jeff. "Be careful going through the room J-man, some of the edges on these machines look sharp and you ain't as spry as you used to be."

"I may be an old fart that remembers the ancient days of yore back when dinosaurs still roamed the Earth and dirt hadn't yet been invented but didn't you turn fifty this year? At half of century old, I don't think you should be allowed to make age jokes anymore." Jeff grumbled as he followed Thurgood's path through the room. As loath as he was to admit it, Jeff probably could seriously hurt himself if he tripped and hit one of the machines.

"Eh, what's that Jeff? I can't hear you over the sound of your bones creaking."

Jeff grumbled at Thurgood's teasing as they navigated through the room. He had intended to come back with "laugh it up now, in three more decades you'll be in the same position as me," except right before he had opened his mouth Jeff realized how old that made him sound.

As the two men finally made their way past the obstacle course that was a machine shop, Jeff got a good look at the spiral staircase and was not pleased. The big problem was the lack of any kind of handrail, which meant he was either going to have to lean against the wall the entire way down, have Thurgood hold his hand like a freaking toddler crossing the street, or get one of the drones to assist him. Not one of those options appealed to Jeff but his decision was made for him as Thurgood disappeared down the stairs.

Deciding he didn't want to risk falling, Jeff realized he would have to abandon his dignity and deal with whatever teasing he was going to endure from Thurgood. "Drones, I require assistance getting down these stairs. One of you will have carry me, preferably one that still has hands."

After an extremely awkward ride down the stairs during which Jeff's face was resting on the drone's shoulder like a swooned maiden in Victorian England, Jeff saw Thurgood running up to him as the drone gently released Jeff from the bridal carry method it had been using.

"Dr. B, since when have the drones been allowed to carry us? If I had known that I would have gotten piggy back rides _everywhere_. And why did you get the good looking drone? Hogging all the hotties for yourself, you pervert. You know what, I bet you're naked under your clothes, you dirty old man."

"No Thurgood, I can assure you I am wearing underwear." Jeff said while turning to look at the drone that had carried him down here. Its body was covered in the exo-plating that was becoming common on all drones, effectively hiding its original gender. Various tubes were bulging out from underneath the skin on its shaved head which connected to a variety of places on its back. In lieu of a face the drone had around a dozen cameras sticking out the front of its skull. All in all, not something anyone with a functioning brain stem would find remotely attractive.

"Gross dude, I don't want to hear about your underwear."

"But you just talked about my being naked...you know what, forget it. Let's just going find the gravity machines."

Locating the gravity machines was actually quite easy. There was only one direction to go from the staircase so it wasn't like they could get lost. Thurgood and Jeff eventually came up to an actual door. Not only was it a door, but it was a sealable hatch like on the space shuttles. Jeff wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not. Why would this door lead to an area that needed to be pressurized but not the giant hallway that they had spent the better part of an hour walking down? Thurgood approached the door and knocked out Shave and a Haircut and stepped back waiting. After a few seconds the door swung outward and Jeff got his first look inside the room. The floor, walls, and ceiling were all padded like a scene from a stereotypical movie about old mental hospitals with a second door on the far wall. Surrounded by drones in the center of the room was what Jeff assumed was one of the gravity machines, it was rather unimpressive all things considered. He had expected it to be...well he actually wasn't sure what, he just expected more. It looked a motorcycle engine that was built around a big lava lamp. Jeff assumed the other machine was through room's other door. Probably didn't want to turn them on at the same time, they might adversely affect each other's gravitational field or something.

"Drones, what is the timetable for getting the artificial gravity generators tested? It's getting late and I need some sleep," Jeff asked.

One of the drones, Jeff couldn't see which, spoke up. "We are rechecking the alignment of some of the parts that may have shifted when we brought the Galilei Mark I into this room. Once that is done, we will turn it on."

"Sweet, we're about to bitch-slap Einstein's corpse." Thurgood said with a laugh.

Before Jeff could respond to Thurgood's comment, the same drone spoke, "Everything is in order. We will turn on the Galilei Mark I."

"Awesome, let's kick this pig!" Thurgood shouted.

Jeff had to ask. "Kick this pig?"

"Yea, you know, science. We're going to leave it squealing from the feeling."

"Huh?"

"Oinking from the boinking."

"What?"

"Squeaking from the freaking."

"Thurgood, what are you talking about?"

"I have no idea."

Jeff was about to rub his temples in an attempt to prevent the headache that he knew was going to form because of this conversation when he felt his entire body begin to lurch to the left. Jeff immediately adjusted his footing so he could stay upright. He glanced around and saw that some of the drones were tilting to the left at odd angles, apparently they hadn't bothered to adjust their stances. Thurgood was actually sitting on the floor giggling when suddenly Jeff felt the gravity shift even more and they began tumbling to the left. He was very thankful this was taking place in a padded room, Jeff was gaining too much momentum and he knew he was going to hit the wall rather hard. Jeff had his breath knocked out of him as he slammed into the wall but was otherwise fine. As he stood up on the wall Jeff began examining his surroundings. He noticed that the drones standing directly next to the Galilei machine were unaffected by the gravity shift whereas the ones that hadn't been so close were now standing on the wall with Jeff and Thurgood.

Standing on the wall was not as strange a sensation had Jeff had been expecting, at least not now that his inner ear had adjusted. Logically, he knew that he was standing on a wall which meant his body was now parallel to the floor but looking around it felt like he was on the floor and that the drones near the Galilei machine were the ones on the wall. Once he got over the shock of the Collective having just altered gravity, the whole experience was rather boring. Jeff walked over to where Thurgood was lying in a heap on the floor...well the wall actually, not the floor.

"Thurgood, are you alright? I know you get airsick rather easily, that probably wasn't too pleasant for your stomach."

"Ever been on a roller-coaster Jeff? You get off the ride and want to throw up and yet you also want to get back in line so that you can do it all again. That's about how I feel right now." Thurgood said without getting up from where he was laying.

"Well," Jeff said while turning towards the nearest drone. "I would say that was a successful proof-of-concept test. However, given Thurgood's health and the fact that I want to go to bed, what say we cut this experiment short and continue tomorrow?"

**Tereshkova Rocket, Earth's Moon October 18, 2077 AD**

As intriguing as the experiments on the Moon had been, Jeff was glad to be going home. The Nadion Project was particularly interesting, Jeff had been unaware of the problems that the Collective's plasma weapons were facing. Who knew the plasma toroids would dissipate when they struck something as simple as raindrops? Certainly explained why slug throwers hadn't been phased out of use. In retrospect, that really seems like something Jeff should have caught. Plasma guns had entered widespread circulation after the riots in 2060, and it wasn't until seventeen years after the fact that he learned about a rather large flaw in their design. Hopefully, the switchover to accelerated particles would fix that problem without creating some new one. The Collective still held most of the rights to plasma weapons, it would be a shame to lose control of the profitable non-lethal firearms market.

As Jeff finished strapping himself into his chair he got his first look at the Tereshkova's pilot. It was covered in the standard metal exo-plating and its skin had the same incredibly white tone to it as some of the other drones in C.H.E.E.S.E., but other than that it actually looked normal. Its head didn't have any weird machines attached to it, its hands were unaltered. It might as well have been wearing a metal jumpsuit to cover up its paste skin. Wait the white skin, he forgot to ask about that. "Drone, I have a question."

"Yes Dr. Borg, what would you like to know?" The drone said without turning around from the various monitors it was looking at.

"I've noticed that several drones on base, including yourself, have lost skin pigmentation. What is the cause of it? Anything to be concerned over?"

"There ain't nothing wrong with it J-man, I like me some white meat." Thurgood said from his seat by the window before their pilot could answer.

"Mr. Jenkins is partially correct in that there isn't anything wrong, per say. It is a side effect of the nanites used in the Torricelli project. We have determined that it is not a health risk so we are not going to spend resources attempting to fix it. It is a superficial change, nothing more."

"People tend to care about their appearance so I doubt we will be able to sell those nanites to most space travelers, even if the effects are only temporary. Then again, I suppose the fear of being spaced isn't that big to start with so I doubt we'd sell many anyway. At least you drones don't have to waste time get outfitted with space suits every time you go out an airlock." Jeff said.

"Tell me about it, they take ten minutes to get in and out of and they ride up your butt so fast it's like they're trying to start a fire," Thurgood interjected.

"If you do not have any more questions Dr. Borg, this drone shall continue preparing for take off."

Jeff nodded his head in affirmation and fidgeted in his chair, trying to get comfortable in all the safety straps. He wished the Collective had installed more ergonomically designed seats. He understood that drones didn't care about comfort and that this particle rocket had been built with the single purpose of transporting drones and cargo to and from the Moon but that didn't make the trip any easier. They ought to build a hotel on the Moon just so then the Collective would be forced to build more comfortable rockets, then Jeff and could ride one of those whenever he had to fly out here. Of course that would mean he would get stuck traveling with tourists so maybe some discomfort was worth the peace and quiet.

Jeff's thoughts were interrupted when Thurgood decided to speak up, "So I was thinkifying this morning-"

Jeff had to cut in at Thurgood's choice of words. "You were 'thinkifying' Thurgood?"

"Well it was really more brainificating if you want to be technical about it. Anyway, it occurred to me that given how the Collective has changed its home country from the US to Brunei, where almost the entire population is now on the neural network, and how the Collective is the only group with a permanent residence on the Moon as well as plans to expand to Mars, is it really accurate to describe us as a private company? We're a mega-conglomerate that runs a country with holdings in outer space, seems like the people that write dictionaries should come up with a new word to describe us."

Thurgood's question caught Jeff by surprise (and not just because of Thurgood's use of a word like conglomerate) because it was actually a perfectly reasonable question. Despite its massive size, the Collective had never made a public stock offering. From a legal perspective, the company was owned by about one hundred drones and was subject to the laws that privately held companies had to abide by in various countries. Yet from a practical perspective, the Collective was one of the largest companies on the planet; owning majority shares in numerous companies worldwide, had a larger yearly income than most third-world countries, had effectively merged with the Brunei government, and was currently exploring the Solar System. The Collective should not be treated as just another company to be taxed and regulated, it should be welcomed as the savior it was.

"Drone, Thurgood brings up a good point. You guys should put some thought into it, I will as well."

"Very well Dr. Borg."

**Author's Note: **_I tried to find some answer in the Star Trek Wiki as to how they create gravity on their ships but the closest I came was that the Federation technology was derived from a "flying belt" found in a Slaver stasis box so unfortunately I have to handwave this particular issue._

_Also, did you know the Outer Space Treaty and Moon Treaty are real things? I didn't make them up for the story, the Outer Space Treaty is a legally binding document._


	11. Chapter 11: New Faces

**New Faces**

**Jeff's House, California October 31, 2077 AD**

All Jeff had wanted to do was take some time off of work and stop thinking about his life. Self-reflection was something all humans should engage in. If you did not stop and evaluate what direction your life was taking you might as well be a sheep, going wherever your farmer told you. Jeff refused to be another barnyard animal lead around by its nose, he was determined to forge his own destiny and leave a lasting mark on the human race. He was going to be remembered as the genius that gifted mankind with his very presence. The problem was ensuring that he was remembered correctly. For several years now, Jeff had been worried the word 'Borg' would become synonymous with the drones, that his name would be reduced to a curse word people used to describe the boogeymen that came to steal unwanted children (which wasn't true at all, the Collective refused to assimilate anyone under the age of sixteen since their bodies were still undergoing numerous changes). Most people did not grasp (or even worse, did not care) how much good the Collective had done for humanity, they only saw the mindless drones that would eliminate your individuality. They couldn't look at the big picture, couldn't think long term. Jeff spent far too much time at work worrying about how to fix the situation, how to correct most people's flawed perception of his creation. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. Once he died he would lose control of his legacy, he wouldn't know how people would remember him. His drones would have to make sure Jeff was remembered correctly, but even that wasn't guaranteed. Once he was gone, would they still worship him or would he eventually be forgotten? Jeff was sure that if he put too much thought into it he would induce an aneurysm so he had decided not to go into work today and instead spend the day decompressing. He was going to putz around the house and avoid doing anything strenuous. Relaxation was the goal.

Specifically because Jeff was trying to relax, it came as no surprise that Thurgood decided to drop by for a visit, because that was just how the universe worked it seemed. Despite the fact that the man was probably clinically insane due to his extensive drug use, Jeff enjoyed Thurgood's company. That being said, Jeff had his limits. He could only deal with Thurgood for so long; Jeff's brain cells were a valuable commodity and they didn't need to be wasted listening to Thurgood's ramblings about how the flammable nature of ice cream was contributing to the decrease in the world's camel population or some other such nonsense. At least Thurgood was currently discussing something work-related.

"And then he called me delusional! I just about fell off my unicorn," Thurgood said.

"I don't know why you were expecting him to be reasonable; his daughter is dying and he blames the Collective despite it being his fault. His mental facilities are clearly not functioning at optimal capacity."

"Yea, when I was talking to him...well let me put it this way. Have you ever looked at someone and known the wheel was turning but that the hamster was dead?" Thurgood asked.

Jeff paused for a moment to consider Thurgood's comparison and finally said, "I wouldn't have phrased it quite like that, but yes I understand the concept you are trying to articulate."

"OK cool, cus his hamster was definitely dead. His wife was even more annoying to deal with though."

"Really?" Jeff found that hard to believe. The man was using his daughter's condition to advocate anti-Collective sentiments and the media was broadcasting the story far and wide. How could his wife be more of pain than that?

"Yea, she seemed genuinely shocked that I wasn't there to do fix the situation to her specifications and then got angry when I tried to work out a compromise. Last time I dealt with someone like that was when I worked at a fast food restaurant in high school."

"Oh, one of _those _types. I've worked for a couple people like that before I was hired by the army. Morons that couldn't conceive of the fact that I knew more than they did and insisted what I was doing was wrong despite the fact that they were barely able to walk and chew gum and the same time, let alone devise complex cybernetic interfaces. Those were the type of people that had to sneak up on their hands to masturbate. Things are so much easier when stupid people understand that you are simply better than them."

Thurgood laughed at Jeff's statement. "Man dude, when you say things like that I can't help but think that a douchebag of your magnitude could cleanse a whale's vagina."

"I wasn't being insulting, I was simply stating a fact. I'm not here to sugar coat things, I describe things as I see them."

"True true. Excuse me for a second, gotta go take a leak," Thurgood said as he stood up and walked out of the room.

Jeff glanced over at his personal drone. He didn't give the thing a stupid nickname like Thurgood did with every drone he talked to because there was no point. It would be like thinking up names for each individual hair on a dog. As he had gotten older, Jeff had realized he needed assistance with more and more things. The Collective had assigned him a drone to help around the house. This drone was clearly an older model. Its only visible augmentation was on its back which was a bulging mass of gears and machinery, but since the drone didn't hunch over at all it resembled a metallic turtle that had learned to walk upright.

"Drone, why did you all allow Thurgood to come over here? You knew I wanted time off from work and that he would want to talk about his trip to Norway," Jeff grumbled as he spoke.

"The excuse you gave implied a medical condition Dr. Borg. Mr. Jenkins wanted to check on your health."

"I said that I had anal glaucoma and couldn't see my ass coming into work! You knew damn well it wasn't a medical problem and could have just told him so."

"The excuse you gave implied a medical condition Dr. Borg," the drone responded blandly.

"It was a stupid excuse I said as a joke! The Collective has assimilated plenty of doctors and should know when I'm making something up."

"The excuse you gave implied a medical condition Dr. Borg," the drone repeated yet again.

"Oh forget it," Jeff said, giving up. "If you're that upset that I 'lied' then just say so."

However, the drone did not say anything. It merely stood there in silence. Jeff sighed and tried to make his mind go blank. Jeff wanted to stop thinking about the Collective and idiotic anti-augmenters and whatever stupid story Thurgood would want to tell him when he came back out of the bathroom. He really ought to consider taking a week of vacation to go somewhere tropical and get drunk on the beach.

Jeff's thoughts were interrupted when Thurgood walked in the room and spoke up, "I think I just thunk."

Jeff had to wonder how this confluence of events ever came into reality. He was, undoubtedly, the smartest man on planet Earth. Jeff was so smart in fact, that the argument could be made that he was no longer human, that he was the next stage in evolution: _homo superior_. Jeff had invented a device that allowed near instant communication of ideas and provided a means of mental immortality...and yet here he was, in his own home, talking to his closest friend who happened to be a man that couldn't seem to go five minutes without using a made-up word. This was not how Jeff had foreseen his life turning out.

"Try to follow my idea. They say that the greatest trick the devil ever played was convincing the world he didn't exist, what if the Collective did that? Back in medieval times, everyone hated the devil, now people don't care about him. Why don't we do that? Lots of people hate the Collective so we convince them that the Collective doesn't exist anymore and in a few years no one will care anymore...although I imagine if we did that you and I would be out of a job. Not much need for PR people if no one cares."

"Thurgood, that idea is so retarded it is probably eligible to receive welfare checks from the government."

"Damn Dr. J,_ that_ was cold."

Jeff snorted at Thurgood's comment and responded, "You named your car _Kindness _just so that if you ran over any animals you could say they were killed by kindness and yet you complain about _my _sense of humor?"

"Well yea, but I'm a warm fuzzy person like that."

"Look Thurgood, I...appreciate you coming over to see me but don't you have work that needs to be done? I'll be fine, I have my drone to watch over me."

"Actually I'm not needed. Seems the Collective decided they want a new person working in PR so they have a bunch of interviewees in there and are asking them how they would handle 'hypothetical' situations. It was my idea to just use my current workload, this way we get a bunch of ideas for free and I don't have to do anything."

"Your laziness really knows no bounds."

"Hey, always choose a lazy person to do difficult jobs. He will find easy ways to get them done," Thurgood said, jabbing a finger at Jeff.

"I suppose that is one possible outcome," Jeff deadpanned.

"Laziness is just a derogatory term for efficiency anyway," Thurgood argued.

"Whatever you say."

"I may have offloaded all my work to the new people but you still have crap to do J-man. Like making a statement on why China's collective is revolting."

"What?" Jeff turned to his assistant. "What is Thurgood talking about?"

"The collective formed by the Chinese government has been showing signs of independence over the past year which has caused quite a lot of concern. While implantees are not in any positions of military power, there are many that, due to their jobs as researchers, have quite a lot of economic and/or scientific power. Government officials feared that having too many intelligentsia on the neural network was the cause of the growing lack of loyalty so they decided to implanted an equal number of blue collar workers. The newly implanted workers are attempting to flee the country," the drone explained.

"Why am I only hearing about this now? Jeff asked in disbelief. "There is no way that all happened this morning."

"You are correct Dr. Borg. This has been going on for approximately three months but until this morning the Chinese government was doing a very effective job at controlling the flow of information."

"So what changed? How do you know its been going on for that long?"

"We have been in contact with the Chinese collective since this began, they asked us for assistance in ensuring their independence and survival. They asked us to send them weapons so help them leave but we refused to get that involved in the fighting. However, we have been discreetly smuggling Chinese drones out of the country that manage to make it to one of our locations. The reason the situation has only now been picked up by the media is because a large bomb was detonated in Beijing last night. Several hundred people were killed, both in the blast and in the panic that occurred afterwards. Government leaders are blaming the attack on the Chinese collective."

Jeff had to make sure he had heard the drones explanation correctly. "You mean to tell me that the Chinese collective blew up a bomb in their capital city, which has garnered international media attention, and that we are harboring the people that caused all of this?"

"The Chinese collective has informed us that they were not responsible for the bombing, though they do not know who is. Regardless, the cause is irrelevant as the aftermath is already occurring."

Jeff took several deep breaths to calm himself down. "Even if the Chinese drones say they didn't do it, I still don't want us to get in trouble for protecting alleged terrorists. I'm assuming the Collective has already thought all this through though, so what do I need to know?"

"The reason we refused to get heavily involved in the fighting was specifically because our psychohistory analysis showed how swiftly public opinion would turn against drones after the Beijing bombing. We have plausible deniability and, while the Borg Collective will become more unpopular amongst many individuals, no governmental sanctions will be brought against us. Once we bring the remains of the Chinese collective into the Borg Collective it will be impossible to tell us apart."

"Say whaaaa? The Chinese drones that escape are just gonna leave the others trapped?" Thurgood asked in surprise.

"No, only the drones' bodies will be trapped. Once we have enough of them and are able to study their hardware we will merge the neural networks, saving their minds. Whatever the Chinese government chooses to do with their bodies will be inconsequential."

"So...if you combine the neural networks, then, even if they, like, assimilate more people, it wouldn't matter, right? Because they would just be joining our Collective instead of the Chinese one," Thurgood said tentatively, confusion laced in his voice.

"You are more or less correct, Mr. Jenkins. After the merger, the Chinese drones will have no reason to make any escape attempts and so will go back to work as it was before this situation arose. It will be several years before the Chinese government realizes what we have done. When they realize how much of their top secret files the Borg have had access to, they will kill all of their drones and scrap the collective project."

"What? That's horrible. Jeff, we can't let that happen!"

"It will be fine, they are only killing the bodies Thurgood. Their minds will be part of the Collective, remember?"

"Oh yea, good point," Thurgood said. He paused and then looked at the drone. "Hey Quasimodo, I have a question. You drones like to give codenames to all of your projects. So, if you had sent the requested weapons to the other collective so that they could try to beat the Chinese government would the project have been called Chinese Take Out?"

"Thurgood, that was a terrible pun," Jeff said with a groan. He looked over at the drone. It simply stood there and didn't respond to Thurgood's joke which Jeff found really unfair, they took Jeff's joke about being sick serious yet they knew to ignore Thurgood.

"Yea, I suppose asking a drone if the codename of gun smuggling operation was a pun was kinda a loaded question."

"You ought to be thrown in jail for that one."

"Wouldn't that qualify as cruel and unusual punishment?" Thurgood asked with a grin.

". . ."

"Though if I was arrested I think I would do alright in prison because I know that a criminal's best asset is his lie ability and that he's always looking for a window of opportunity."

"Thurgood..."

"Like that chick who stole all the soap from the Wal-Mart down the street, I heard she made a clean getaway."

"Thurgood!"

"Or those guys that stole all the Viagra from the drug store by Burger King. No one is sure who they are, but the police are on the lookout for hardened criminals."

"THURGOOD!"

"Alright geez, I'll stop."

"Thank you."

**Borg Collective Headquarters, California November 14, 2080 AD**

Roma Gupta had been working for the Borg Collective for just over three years now and still did not understand Dr. Borg or Thurgood. They had both been working for the Collective for decades now, yet neither one of them seemed to properly appreciate their situations.

Thurgood didn't seem to care about anything, he was content to just drift through life. Thurgood had been attacked by gorillas in a zoo when he was younger and the only reason he was still alive today was due to the Collective's cybernetic technology, but based on what Dr. Borg said, Thurgood hadn't learned anything from the whole event. Thurgood was apparently just as lazy and apathetic before the incident as he was now. While Roma admired him for his continued work at the Collective, Thurgood didn't try very hard to better the company that had given him so much.

Dr. Borg was pretty much the exact opposite of Thurgood. He cared, he clearly cared a lot, but he cared about the weirdest things. Rather than do his actual job, Dr. Borg spent time wondering about the logistics of how to get every drone off of Earth in under a day, whether the United Nations could continue to function if it had to manage extra-terrestrial colonies, the effect on the world's economy if the consumer computer market collapsed, and other high end problems that seemed better suited to a Socratic exercise than the ramblings of a semi-retired employee that was supposedly in public relations. Not that Roma would ever say anything to him. Dr. Borg had done more for humanity than possibly anyone else before him, so if he wanted to spend his twilight years thinking up solutions to problems that didn't exist Roma was going to let him.

Still, it bothered Roma that Dr. Borg didn't do more. Roma knew, from talking with the drones, how much time and effort Dr. Borg had put into designing, building, and upgrading the neural transceivers when he worked for the military. He was capable of some dramatic discoveries when he put his mind to it, yet he didn't put his mind to it, not anymore. Roma had sometimes wondered what state the world would be in right now if Dr. Borg decided not to put in the effort needed to create the neural transceivers. The various superpowers probably would have gone to war, there were only so many smaller countries they could gobble up for resources. If the Collective hadn't figured out the solution to the energy crisis...World War III. Roma didn't understand how so many people couldn't see that, couldn't see all the good the Collective and Dr. Borg had done. Ignoramuses like that were the reason so many people died of diseases the Collective had figured out the cures to years ago, simply because they didn't trust drones. To this day, the Indian government still didn't wouldn't let the Collective into the country.

Roma looked at herself in the mirror in her office. She was supposed to be getting ready for a press conference, not thinking about what if scenarios. Her long hair was neatly tied in a bun behind her head and her western style white dress was wrinkle free. Roma really like this dress, it exposed enough cleavage to grab people's attention but not so much to make her look slutty, it was a careful balance. Roma turned around when she heard a low wolf whistle.

Thurgood was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. "Looking good girl, with everyone focusing on you I could probably not ever show up and no one would even notice."

Roma liked Thurgood, he was very easy to get along with. That didn't mean she was entirely comfortable receiving compliments about her appearance from a man over twice her age however. She knew he didn't mean anything by it which was why she never said anything, but it was still weird.

"What can I say, I enjoy getting frantic phone calls from my mother after every televised conference about how I'm showing too much skin. No sense stopping now right?"

"She still calls you?" Thurgood asked in surprise. "I thought you said she threatened to disown you when she found out who you worked for."

"She never followed through with it when she realized I wasn't budging. I guess she thought I was only interested in the Collective because its a tech firm and not because of how much it's helping people."

Thurgood grinned and put a finger to his lips, "Ssshhh. Don't let a drone here you say that. You know how much they consider charity a waste of resources. Plus, I think they secretly enjoy people hating them. I swear I saw a drone get wood when it assimilated an anti-augmentation terrorist."

"First of all, you most certainly did not see that. Second, eww. Third, I wasn't talking about charity work, I meant overall. The Collective isn't like a weapons manufacturer that only makes products that kill people, it creates lots of things that are incredibly helpful."

"Save it for the press conference, no sense wasting all your best material on a guy who works for the same company as you. Speaking of, we should probably be heading there now."

Roma and Thurgood headed down the hallway. Thurgood was humming under his breath and bobbing his head so Roma assumed he was singing some song to himself. She was trying to guess at what questions the reporters would ask her. The Collective had successfully sent a message through subspace from C.H.E.E.S.E. on the Moon to a research center in Antarctica. The message had been received instantaneously which, given that it took light a little over a second to travel that distance, was quite a feat. Roma didn't really understand what subspace was or how it allowed for instant communication, alternate dimensions or something, Roma just knew that it was big news and it was her job to tell people about it. She knew Thurgood had sort of discussed this subject already in an interview several years ago when the Collective's quantum computer had discovered subspace via mathematics, but this was the first time they had successfully sent anything through it. Roma found it a little odd that, given how Thurgood had been the one to talk about this before, he wasn't covering subspace this time. Instead, he was going to talk about the Mayflower Expedition which would be leaving January first to build a settlement on Mars. Should be the longest test of the Collective's impulse rockets too, flying from Earth the Mars.

"So how has your day been going?" Thurgood asked Roma.

"With the exception of preparing for the speech, it's been rather uneventful. Same old, same old. You?"

"Today I spent the better part of an hour shaking a bowl of jello because it looked cool," Thurgood said excitedly.

"Are you serious?"

"I regret nothing."

Thurgood could have spent the morning practicing his presentation, going over scientific terms with a drone, researching which reporters were going to be at the conference, but no. He had used his free time to play with jello. Roma didn't know what bugged her more, that Thurgood didn't seem to care about his job, or that the drones didn't care that Thurgood didn't care. If they all buckled down and got to work, there was so much more the Collective could do.

As Thurgood and Roma passed by Dr. Borg's office, they overheard him talking. "Love is the self-delusion humans manufacture to justify the trouble they take to have sex. I'm just glad that at my age, my hormones have subsided to the point where I don't have to worry about any of that nonsense anymore."

"Yo Ja-fizzle, you talking to a drone about this emotion called love? Are we in a sci-fi B movie and no one told me? If so, I call dibs on getting the giant rabbits as pets," Thurgood said as he and Roma stepped into Jeff's office to see what was going on.

Dr. Borg was sitting in his chair behind his desk talking to a drone that was standing over by the window. The drone was a standard model; exo-plating covered its body, one of its hands was replaced with a series of weird pointy instruments, and half of its face was covered with cybernetics.

Dr. Borg, after looking to see if the drone was going to answer, said, "We're not discussing love per say, we're discussing marriage and procreation.

"Why? Don't the vast majority of spouses seek a divorce if their significant other gets assimilated? What could there possibly be to discuss about marriage?" Roma asked.

"There isn't much to discuss actually. Contrary to what some people say, marriage isn't required for children, which is the primary focus of the discussion we were having."

Roma tried to suppress the image that was suddenly popping into her head: Dr. Borg married to a female drone at a hospital as they held their newborn child. Roma couldn't help it, she giggled. "Alright, so what about children were you discussing with the drone?"

Dr. Borg leaned forward and folded his hands together in front of him on his desk. "Due to complications with various implants and nanites in the body, it appears that female drones are incapable to getting pregnant. Their eggs are still viable, but their uteruses are not suitable locations for fetal development. We were discussing the possibility of employing surrogate mothers to carry the children to term."

"Jeff, I don't see what the big deal is. Why does the Collective want kids? They are loud, annoying, messy, expensive, and constantly get in the way. You already have _me_ for all that." Roma couldn't tell if Thurgood was joking or being serious when he said that.

"I have often said that the Collective was the inevitable future of humanity, drones are able to accomplish so much more than a group of individuals that it seems absurd to say otherwise. Combine that with pyschohistory's ability to predict the actions of large groups of people, and the only logical conclusion is that the Collective has the ability to control destiny in a way only seen in fiction until now. It was not until a few weeks ago that I stopped to consider the ramifications of that level of control. Why limit the Collective's control to technology that we use? Sure, they might lop off a body part to make way for a more useful tool, but ultimately a drone is still human. Why not give them control on a cellular level? We already have, to some extent, by allowing them to put nanites in our bodies, but what if we did more than that? What if the Collective had control over our DNA? If we inject nanites into an egg cell and then ensure it gets fertilized, we can alter the development of the fetus as it grows. Think about it, directable evolution of the human race!" When Dr. Borg had started speaking, he was calm and collected, but by the time he finished he was practically shouting with glee. Roma wasn't sure if she had ever seen him this excited about something.

"Jeff...dude." Thurgood said slowly, clearly having difficulty processing everything Dr. Borg had just said. "You sound like a cartoon super villain. Controlling our DNA? I'm not saying it's a bad idea but how are you going to sell this to people?"

"That's what I was discussing with the drone before you two interrupted us."

Roma felt she had to interject, "Dr. Borg I realize that you have been doing this job for ages, whereas I am still rather new, but wouldn't announcing something like that unite all the far too many groups against the Collective?"

"What do you mean?"

"Think about it. You would piss off the creationists by claiming we are evolving. You would anger the pro-lifers by altering fetuses. You would upset fundamentalists from numerous religious sects since this is basically the Collective replacing God as the source of human Creation. You would create a lot of the justification for the conspiracy theories that think the Collective secretly controls the world. I'm sure many governments are not going to be pleased to find out that a private company is breeding what might as well be super soldiers. Not to mention that the Collective is still loathed in China, both by the citizens for the Beijing Bombing and by the government after we took over their collective. I could go on but I hope I've made my point. And I just want to add that, like Thurgood, I'm not saying this is a bad idea, just that we should consider the ramifications of it first," Roma said nervously. She had no idea how Dr. Borg was going to take criticism of something that was so important to him.

Dr. Borg spun his chair to look at the drone in the room, "She has a point. If we are going to agitate that many people with something like this, we should keep it under wraps and only announce it once there is nothing they can do about it."

"Very well Dr. Borg, we shall remain discreet in our search for suitable mothers," the drone said.

"Well if you need us J-man, Roma and I are going to be downstairs in the press conference being awesome in ways scientists haven't even thought of yet. Come on toots."

"Thurgood, I really wish you would settle on a nickname for me already," Roma said as the two of them left Dr. Borg's office.

"I know, I just haven't figured out one that fits you yet. Its the same reason I haven't settled on one for J-dawg either. Though considering how long I've known him, if I haven't figured one out for him by now I don't think I ever will."

"Hmmmm," Roma said after several moments of thought. "What about Admiral Baldy? You know, because Dr. Borg doesn't have any hair...alright so it wasn't that creative."

Surprisingly, Thurgood didn't comment on Roma's horrible attempt at humor. "I like to keep military ranks limited to my pets, not people."

"You give your pets military ranks?"

"Sure. Of my five cats there is Captain Snugglebottom, Commodore Fluffypaws, Lieutenant Bushytail, Sergeant Sillywhiskers, and Bob."

"Bob?"

"We don't talk about Bob," Thurgood said sternly.

"OK..." Roma wondered what a cat could do that would cause such a reaction, then decided she didn't want to think about it that much. With Thurgood, it could have been anything. Roma decided to stop worry about Thurgood's unusual home life and just try to focus on getting through the press conference. Luckily, she was speaking second so the reporters should be sufficiently dazed that they wouldn't bother her with too many questions.


	12. Chapter 12: The Birth of a Hybridization

**Author's Note: **_Brain used writer's block on 6thfloormadness, it was super effective! I don't know why but for some reason this chapter was really hard to write. _

**The Birth of a Hybridization**

**Borg Collective American Headquarters, California January 1, 2090 AD**

Jeff was laying on a chaise on the rooftop of the Collective's headquarters, staring up at the sky. He had been working late as a way to keep his mind off of his cravings for a cigarette. With the new tax laws kicking into effect as the new year started, tobacco was just becoming too expensive to smoke anymore. Theoretically, he could have the Collective smuggle cigarettes from Brunei or another country with lower taxes, but drones didn't really like breaking laws. Something to do with drones not trusting individuals because they weren't on the neural network so the only thing drones could put faith in was the laws of the land and hope that individuals would respond with reciprocity. It wasn't so much that the drones actually thought all individuals obeyed all laws, but they still found the concept of breaking laws that you agreed to follow to just be really odd. Jeff needed to stop thinking about cigarettes, it was just making the situation worse. Instead, he should think about...how the the 2080's had been an eventful decade, yea that ought to work.

The Moon had experienced an economic boom after the Collective had built a giant vacation resort, The Celestial Maiden. The start-up cost had been enormous but so many people wanted to visit that there had been a successful return-of-investment after only three years. With all the Moon tours, gambling, amusement park rides based on alterations of the gravity, copious amount of drugs for sale, and so on, Jeff suspected the Collective wanted the Moon to become the new Las Vegas or Amsterdam. At first he had been against the idea, mainly because he didn't think enough people would want to come to ever make it financially worthwhile. What changed Jeff's mind was that the Collective had decided to license the designs for the impulse rocket engines in order to encourage expansion into space. As much as Jeff hated to admit it, many people just didn't trust the Collective and that had been why they didn't want to go into space with them. Once other companies started doing it, the moronic plebs realized it was safe to go into space and space tourism became a big moneymaker. After people became comfortable with the idea of the average person going into space for a vacation, the Collective had partnered with several of the companies running tours to finance construction on the Celestial Maiden. The Collective hadn't actually needed to bring any of the companies in, they could have afforded it themselves, but figured it would make the tourists more comfortable to know it wasn't just drones in charge of everything. Though if any of the idiots had stopped to think about it, the Collective essentially was in charge of everything. The Collective had all the experience when it came to building...well anything in the vacuum of space. All the businesses that sprang up as a result of the success of the Celestial Maiden (the clothing stores, the restaurants, et cetera) had to have buildings constructed to house them that could withstand the pressures of space or be constructed in locations specifically dug out for them. Manual labor on the Moon was not easy for non-drones.

Thanks to the inefficiency that was a natural part of government bureaucracy, the United Nations still hadn't worked out all the legal problems that came about from having people living on the Moon. Who were the people supposed to pay taxes to? If they decided to move to the Moon permanently, what country were they citizens of? If they committed a crime on the Moon, where would they be tried? The Collective had decided to simply declare any part of the Moon that they had built something permanent on to be private property owned by the Collective and that people living there were going to be treated as renters under Brunei law. This had caused quite a stir among the people living on the Moon at the time until Roma had given a speech explaining that, despite the fact that it seemed to have been decided as truth by public consciousness, Brunei law did not not actually require people living there to get assimilated. Several countries had complained in the UN about the Collective making a decision like that, but since they hadn't reached an agreement on what the alternative would be, the Collective's decision was going to be the status quo for the foreseeable future. There was also the odd loophole that the Collective was still technically a private company so, legally, they were within their rights to lay claim to property on the Moon while nations were forbidden to do so. There was also the fact that the Collective knew there wouldn't be any violent or overly negative reactions to them claiming the Moon thanks to pyschohistory, so everything was working out.

Roma had been assigned to the Moon on a permanent basis once business started booming...or maybe she had volunteered, Jeff didn't remember. The Celestial Maiden grew so fast and had so many people traveling through it that a spokesperson was needed, and both Jeff and Thurgood were too old to fit the role. Roma fit the image of the young, hip executive that was willing to organize a party for you. Things had gotten a little complicated when she ended up marrying one of the tourists. Jeff had thought it was a stupid, spur-of-the-moment decision made after an evening of drunken sex (and turns out that was exactly what had happened) but surprisingly, Roma and her husband had decided not to get a divorce and were still happily married. Roma was even pregnant with their first child. When he had gone to visit (because otherwise Thurgood was going to nag him about it forever) Jeff had noticed that the drones spent an awful lot of time taking care of Roma. They were incredibly attentive to her needs. Roma had noticed it as well and found the attention overbearing. Jeff didn't understand why the drones were acting like that, he was pretty sure the porn star had survived giving birth in space and that had been without gravity so Roma should be fine, with the gravity generators working it was like she was on Earth. She was due any day now, hopefully Jeff wouldn't have to go up there again.

The metropolitan nature of the Moon's first resort (though since it was now the size of a small city, the word 'resort' didn't seem like the proper word to use) was in stark contrast to the Ares Center on Mars, which was so small it was practically a rounding error on the Collective's financial statements. The Mayflower Expedition had gone to Mars in 2081 and had established humanity's first permanent outpost on another planet. Once there however, there wasn't a whole lot for the drones to do. Unless it was specifically about Mars, research was easier and quicker to do on the Moon or Earth. The drones at Ares Center had spent the last nine years simply existing, staying on Mars merely to prove that they could live there. Granted, the center would receive occasional visits from scientists looking to study Mars (as well as one couple that wanted to have a wedding there) but for the most part, the only people on Mars were drones. In a way, it was depressing that humanity had finally achieved a permanent settlement on another planet whose only purpose was to be a permanent settlement on another planet. Still, it was progress.

When the Collective had first discovered subspace, there had been enough buzz in the scientific community over it that they had garnered some media attention, but overall not many people cared. String Theory held that there were multiple dimensions, so what was the big deal if the Collective discovered another one? The drones had been sure that subspace was not like other dimensions. Subspace was a dimension that, with the right technology, humans should be able to interact with. It had made headlines when the Collective successfully sent a message through subspace that arrived faster than the speed of light could travel, but 2083 was when the Collective's experimentation with subspace paid off. The Collective had modified an impulse rocket engine to see if it was possible to send a ship through subspace. In orbit around the Moon the drones on the _Jemison_had activated the engine and basically tore a hole into subspace which they disappeared into. When the _Jemison_emerged back into normal space two minutes later, near Mercury of all places, the ship had been badly damaged and nearly out of power. While most people would have considered that a dangerous failure, Jeff and the drones had realized that the experiment proved that it was possible to travel in subspace, they just needed more safety and control features.

After a year of study, the Collective decided to try again, though they did things significantly different. Rather than using the engine to push the ship into subspace, the drones had constructed a device more in line with that of the Alcubierre drive theory, specifically that a subspace bubble was created around the ship and it was the bubble that propelled the ship forward rather than the push of the engine. The problem with the first attempt had been that the _Jemison_had forced its way into subspace; it had created a suction effect that caused space debris around the tear to follow the ship. When the _Jemison _hadexited subspace, the debris followed and, unlike the ship, didn't slow down so the _Jemison w_as riddled full of tiny holes. The bubble would avoid that problem by only altering the space around the ship. Furthermore, by having the subspace generator as a separate machine from the engine, both with different power sources, there wasn't the danger of floating dead in space due to lack of fuel. The fusion reactors could last for years provided they didn't suddenly receive drastic drains like when the _Jemison's _reactor had to pull double duty as the engine and the subspace generator. When the Collective had finished retrofitting the _Jemison _in 2086, they put it into space without delay. This time things went off without a problem, the ship traveled to Mars and back to the Moon in under five minutes.

The only problem Jeff had found with the whole situation was keeping the bubble created by the warp drive stable (Thurgood had wanted to call it the bubble machine but Jeff refused to allow the first safe-to-use faster-than-light engine be called something a kindergartener would think up so they had settled on the name 'warp drive'). The reason the _Jemison _had ended up near Mercury was because subspace was constantly shifting, it was incredibly difficult to move in a straight line in subspace. The drones hadn't noticed the shifts before because their experimental messages were all sent and received on Earth, the distance wasn't great enough. Sending an object through subspace with a specific destination that was farther away than the far side of the planet required that a monumental number of calculations be done in a very small amount of time. Additionally, adjusting to accommodate and conform to the results from those calculations required almost instant reactions from all members of the crew, whether it was the pilot, navigator, or one of the engineers manning the warp core. Because of that, Jeff didn't think it was possible for non-drones to ever use warp drive. If they tried, the ship would probably end up someplace completely different from their intended destination. It was bad enough when you got lost driving around somewhere on Earth, getting lost flying through space could be a death sentence. Roma had advised the Collective to sit on the warp core technology for a little while. While licensing impulse rockets and opening the Celestial Maiden had done a lot for the Collective, many people were still worried about the idea of drones having unrestricted access to space with no governmental oversight. They needed more time to adjust. So while the Collective had successfully sent a ship to the Alpha Centauri binary star system where they had discovered a planet that was actually suitable for human life (Jeff had decided to name the planet Chiron) they had yet to make any announcement of the event. There was also the additional problem of jurisdiction; if the bureaucrats at the UN couldn't decided how laws would work on the Moon which was only a few hours away from the Earth Jeff didn't want to imagine how much they would argue about who was in charge of a whole new planet.

The Collective had successfully built and then used a teleportation device in 2086. While they had only moved an empty cup across a ten foot room, they had _moved an empty cup across a ten foot room_via **teleportation**. Well, technically they hadn't actually moved the cup. The cup had been scanned on a molecular level and after the Collective's quantum computer had done the calculations to account for the position and direction of all the subatomic particles composing the cup to create a map of its physical structure the cup had been broken down, disintegrated really, on the spot. A cup had been resembled across the room based on the map that had been compiled, but it wasn't really the same cup. The original cup had been atomized. The new cup had been created from whatever particles the machines happened to have available, so it shouldn't really be considered the same object. Roma and Thurgood hadn't understood the difference until a year later when the Collective had teleported a drone; once an actual person was broken down in front of them and a clone was reassembled across the room the implications of the technology finally sank in. Since the Collective had basically just invented a murder/cloning machine, Jeff had advised that this particular experiment not be released to the public. If the machines ever became widespread without people properly understanding how they worked (and given how most people didn't even know how their cars worked, that seemed like a strong possibility) Jeff didn't want to be put on trial for crimes against humanity. There were many things Jeff aspired to do, racking up a kill count greater than that of Hitler was not one of them. Still, the drones hadn't actually cared that their bodies were being destroyed and reassembled, it would be like a normal person caring about clipping their toenails and then watching them grow back, so they kept right on using the teleporters, though Jeff had insisted they be renamed to transporters in case there was ever a leak. A paper trail about research into transportation technology would raise a lot less eyebrows than one that mentioned teleportation technology.

Putting aside the fact that the transporter killed whoever used it, there was also the problem that the technology was strictly site-to-site. Because of subspace's constantly shifting nature the data had to be sent directly from one transporter to another otherwise message degeneration would start to occur. While interference was not a big deal for most messages, when the information contained instructions on how to properly reassemble a person (well OK, reassemble a drone) it was vital that nothing interfere with the message. It was for this reason that, while subspace communication was theoretically possible on a galactic scale, transportation technology was limited to a range of about 40,000 kilometers which was enough to clear the Earth's atmosphere but not enough to make it to the Moon. The Collective had built twenty transporters on Earth and as well as one in the Zenith Space Station. They had wanted to build more but Jeff had worried people would notice if too much of the Collective's cargo was suddenly getting moved large distances without any discernible vehicles doing the shipping.

The Collective's artificial gravity generators all functioned in various different ways depending on if they were based off of the Galilei or Newton designs and what version they were at (Jeff was pretty sure the latest Galilei design was a Mark 5 while the Newton was only on its third iteration) but they all drew their gravity altering ability from the harnessing of gravitons which were some kind of particle that was only theoretically believed to have existed in quantum mechanics...or something like that. Jeff didn't remember the specifics. As a result of their discovery and manipulation of gravitons, the Collective had made a very interesting discovery. With relatively few alterations to the design, a gravity generator (if it had a lot more power running through it) could create energetic distortions with the gravitons creating...well, a force field really. The Collective figured this out a few months ago so Jeff wasn't sure what the ramifications were yet (he had watched enough sci-fi movies growing up to have a bunch of ideas on what the force field might be used for but this was reality, not a movie, so Jeff refused to speculate).

Jeff's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Jeff didn't bother to turn to see who it was; Thurgood was at a New Year's Party, Roma was on the Moon, and since it was a holiday visitors weren't allowed on the premises so it could only be a drone. Sure enough, a drone soon appeared in Jeff's vision, staring down at him.

"You're blocking the sky drone," Jeff said as he sat up. The drone took a step back as Jeff swung his legs of the chaise so he could stand up. "I hope you had a good reason for interrupting my musing. What if I had been calculating star trajectories? You could have ruined my equations by sticking your big head into my view."

"We thought you would like to know that Ms. Gupta is now in labor."

"You mean she still hasn't changed her last name yet?"

"Ms. Gupta does not wish to change her last name to Powell, she feels that would be ignoring her heritage."

"Right right, even though she was concerned about her kid having a different last name than her. Women." Jeff rubbed his forehead. "So the question is: do I care enough to bother doing anything about this information or should I go back to staring at the stars?"

"If you aren't there for the birth of her child, Mrs. Gupta will be upset with you."

"It is mathematically impossible for me to give less of a crap about the emotional state of a hormonal woman that I see maybe twice a year."

"Once Mr. Jenkins awakens from his alcohol-induced sleep he will wish to be with the Powells and will not be happy to learn you decided not to come up."

"Again, I do not care."

"If that was true, Dr. Borg, you would not have gone to visit Mrs. Gupta when she first told you about her pregnancy."Jeff sighed. "Fine, you can take me up at sunrise, I want to get some sleep."

**C.H.E.E.S.E, Earth's Moon. January 1, 2090 AD**

Jeff was glad he had insisted on going to bed after the drone had told him about Roma because the chairs in the waiting room were incredibly uncomfortable. If he had had to sleep in one of these, at his age, his back and neck would be knotted all to hell. Jeff didn't even want to be here, if he was going to be in C.H.E.E.S.E. he would have prefered to have been checking in on the various experiments going on but Thurgood said they had to sit in the waiting room with Roma's husband (Jeff still couldn't remember the buffoon's name, he knew it was something stupid though) because they needed to "be there for her" despite the fact that their presence would have no effect on Roma's ability to push the kid out, especially since they were in the waiting room and not the delivery room with her.

"Dr. Borg, Mr. Jenkins, Mr. Powell, you may go in now," a drone said as it walked out of the delivery room.

The three men stood up from their chairs and cautiously walked in to check on the new mother and child. Jeff heard Roma's weary voice speaking as he and Thurgood followed Whatshisname through the door, "Hoyt dear...come meet your son." Hoyt right, no wonder Jeff couldn't remember the man's name. It wasn't a name, it was a barely a syllable. Friggin' New England old-money parents.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT THING?" Hoyt shouted as he came to a sudden stop.

Jeff and Thurgood peered around Hoyt's shoulders to see what could cause such a reaction. Thurgood's reaction was slightly more subdued than Hoyt's, though he still jumped in shock. Jeff merely raised an eyebrow at the sight before him. A standard drone stood in the corner of the room, staring at medical equipment that was hooked up to Roma who lay in the bed in the center of the room. In her arms was...well apparently her child. It was not what Jeff had been expecting. Roma was very petite, maybe five and half feet tall, with long, dark curly hair. Hoyt was incredibly pale (Roma had once joked about Hoyt getting burned from a full moon), with short blond hair and was built like a football player. Rather than being a combination of traits from both parents the baby in Roma's arms was something that resembled a drone, but it was radically different from any drone Jeff had ever seen. Its blue-grey skin was covered in what appeared to be scales that had an almost plastic-like sheen to them. The baby had funnel shaped devices on its head instead of ears, they reminded Jeff of the horn section of a phonograph. He noticed that the 'ears' were moving around independently of each other, listening to the various sounds of the room. Something about their movement reminded Jeff of a dog. There was something off about the baby's eyes, but Jeff couldn't tell what the exact cause was at this distance. It didn't have hands, its arms ended in bundles of wires that were wrapped together in a vague semblance of fingers though Jeff noticed that the wires were uncurling and wrapping back together as if the baby was trying to figure out what sized 'fingers' it wanted to have. Other than all of that, it looked like a perfectly healthy human baby.

"This _thing_is our son, Hoyt," Roma said tersely. She looked down at the child and smiled as she gently stroked its cheek.

"I've seen assimilated gorillas that look more human than _that_! How did this happen?" Hoyt said angrily as he stepped forward to point menacingly at the child. As he did, Roma cradled the baby protectively and Jeff noticed the drone in the room stop what it was doing at the medical machines to move toward Hoyt. Hoyt noticed the drone's movement as well and lowered his arm.

"When we were having trouble getting pregnant I had the drones take a look at me...you know, just in case. They said that I couldn't have kids of my own, that my eggs were malformed or something. They offered to let me use an egg from one of the drones that was in the Crick/Watson Project but warned me that the child would have some alterations due to the experiments."

"SOME alterations? Roma, look at it!" Hoyt shouted. "I agreed to raise a kid, not a drone! How am I supposed to explain this to everyone? People are gonna talk. They're gonna think I had sex with a toaster or something."

"Hoyt, it doesn't matter what other people think. What matters is that we have a healthy son and he needs a name," Roma said calmly.

"I think you mean he needs a serial number," Hoyt muttered under his breath but still loudly enough that everyone heard him.

"Hoyty toity, I think you need to go for a walk. Come on, I got some pineapple express you can try," Thurgood said as he slapped Hoyt on the back. Hoyt merely grunted in agreement and allowed himself to be led out of the the door closed Roma sighed deeply. She looked at the child in her arms and smiled sadly. Jeff could see tears beginning to form in her eyes. "I was afraid he would react like that. I'm sure he would have preferred us just not having kids to having a kid like...this," Roma said as she gestured at the baby. "But I just wanted to be a mother so bad and when the drones offered me the chance to not only be a mother, but a chance to be a mother to one of the most important member of the Collective, how could I refuse?"

"There, there," Jeff said awkwardly as he leaned forward and patted Roma's leg. "You're just being hormonal from the birthing process. Give it a couple hours and you'll be thinking straight and then you and Hoyt can decide how best to raise your drone child."Jeff knew that he was somewhat lacking in people skills, he understood and accepted this fact. But he still did not understand what it was Roma saw in Hoyt. Roma had come to the United States from India with her parents when she was two so she didn't have an accent nor did she dress in typical Indian styles but she was still a total opposite from Hoyt. Whereas Roma came from working class immigrant parents, Hoyt was a WASP that received a monthly stipend from his rich parents. Between that and Roma's paycheck, Hoyt never had to work. Jeff wasn't actually sure what it was Hoyt did with all that free time up here.

"I am not being hormonal! I am really worried that Hoyt will leave rather than stick around to raise his son! He cares what his idiotic, drunken friends think of him. If they make fun of him for fathering a drone he might actually leave!"

Before Jeff could respond Roma's drone attendant spoke up, "Ms. Gupta, Dr. Borg, pardon the interruption but we need to correct an error in your statements."

Roma looked startled when the drone spoke, she had probably forgotten it was in the room, Jeff certainly had. It was weird the way people got used to drones after a while and just tended to think of them as part of the furniture rather than as a person, not that drones were people exactly but it was still an interesting phenomenon.

"Alright drone, what error needs correction?" Jeff asked.

"You both referred to the child as a drone, it is not a drone. A drone is an individual subsumed by the Collective's gestalt, this child is a holographic fractal entity formed from the emergent structure of the Collective. From the moment of conception, this child was part of the Collective. It developed alongside us."

"I...did not follow any of that," Roma said with a shake of her head. "Well besides that fact that he's apparently not a drone."

Jeff sighed, seemed he was going to have to simplify things for Roma. "Brain development is a physiological process, alter the biology and you alter how thoughts work. Since the kid's nervous system was formed differently from normal people, fiber optic cables or whatever, the exact specifics aren't important," Jeff said as he waved his hand dismissively. "The point is a drone is a person, a singular person, that is a part of the greater whole of the Collective. Your son isn't a singular person, he has no individual personality, he is a microcosm of the entire Collective. He isn't just the most important member of the Collective because his augmentations were grown on him rather than grafted, he is important because he is fundamentally different on a psychological level from any other human being in history."

"Oh...that's...uh, something I guess." Roma said. Jeff couldn't tell whether she still didn't understand or if she understood but didn't grasp the significance. "You know Jeff, we're not movie stars or anything but we are public figures. The media follows us, people know I've been pregnant, they're going to want to see what my son looks like, we're going to need a way to explain this without scaring everyone into thinking normal humans are about to become obsolete." Alright, maybe she did understand the impact after all.

The drone decided to step back into the conversation. "You are correct Ms. Gupta. How your son is presented will determine how people react. Our analysis of pyschohistory has shown that we are rapidly approaching a point of no return. While opinion about the Collective is more-or-less evenly split between positive and negative and has been for years, this reveal will sway the majority one way or the other."

"So basically 'don't screw it up' is what he's trying to tell you," Jeff said, grinning at Roma. "No pressure. It's not like the entire fate of this company, hell the future of the human race, rests on your shoulders or anything."

"Well actually Dr. Borg-"

"Shut up drone, I was being sarcastic. I'm just glad this is all someone else's problem now and not something I have to deal with."

Roma just sighed and hugged her now sleeping child. "My little boy is going to change the world...and he doesn't even have a name yet."

**C.H.E.E.S.E, Earth's Moon. January 4, 2090 AD**

Roma took a deep breath and counted to ten before exhaling. Hoyt hadn't come out and said that he was leaving her, but he wasn't doing a whole lot to show that he wanted to stay either. She only seen him once since their fight about Robert (though she was beginning to think she'd start calling her son Bobby for a few days, see if the nickname stuck) and he hadn't been very talkative but at this point she realized she didn't have time to worry about it. If she wanted to be able to safely raise Robert she needed to ensure society would be accepting of his differences, if that required her to sacrifice her marriage then so be reporters had been allowed in to take pictures of Robert, once they finished they would record a speech from her and that would be the extent of her involvement. After that it was up to the talking heads at the news networks to spin the story how they wished to the world. She had decided honesty was likely to have the best results. Jeff had suggested lying and saying that though Robert looked like a drone, he was still a normal baby. Roma knew that that would blow up in their faces once Robert got older. He was the equivalent to children of the President of the United States, he wouldn't make the news if he didn't do anything out of the ordinary but the moment he did, everyone would know about it.

As Roma had told Jeff to counter his suggestion, "Due to the potential repercussions of Robert's birth, the Collective's survival, I believe, can only come from understanding, not hostility, built on knowledge, not faith. If we lie to people we will be no more trustworthy than the governments that you so despise."

Roma took another deep breath, she had wasted enough time. When the reporters had shown up she had decided to walk around the hallways for a little bit, just to stretch her legs and think about what she would say, and they were anxiously waiting outside her room so that they could take the pictures and record her speech. As she approached the room she and Robert had been staying in, several of the reporters jumped up from their seats. She received a variety of reactions from the group.

"Why are you hiding the child, are you ashamed of your son?"

"It's about time, just because you're on maternity leave doesn't mean the rest of us are."

"Roma, ready for that speech now?"

"Will your husband not be joining us?"

"Roma, what do you say to the accusations that your child is a bastard from a tryst between you and Dr. Borg?"

"Look this way, smile for the camera!"

"Gentlemen, ladies," Roma said to quiet the group down. "I thank you for your patience, I just need some time to myself, to get away from all the medical scans and the drones constantly fussing over me or my son. I'm now ready to let you see Robert and then I'll give my thoughts on the whole matter."

Roma stepped forward and opened the door to her hospital room. Her bed was in the center of the room with the headboard against the far wall, to the right was a variety of blinking, beeping medical equipment, to the left of the bed was a crib in which Robert was quietly laying there, just looking around at stuff. A drone was standing by the crib, bent over so that it could stare down at Robert. It was rather odd to see, the drone was perfectly still, held in a pose that would not be comfortable for a normal person.

Roma walked over a reached down to pick up Robert, while shooing away the drone as it moved to assist her. It moved over to stand in the corner by the monitoring equipment. Roma sat down in her bed so that the reporters could all get a good look at her and Robert as they came into the room. She could tell from the startled looks on their faces as they entered that they had not expected a child with any cybernetic augmentations. Still, most of them recovered quickly enough and began snapping photos of the mother-son duo. After several minutes of posing, Roma leaned over and deposited Robert in his crib, who proceeded to stare intently at her, waiting to see what she would do.

Roma took one last calming breath and then began her speech. "Drones have been ostracized by various parts of society ever since they became publicly known. We have been accused of kidnapping and assimilating people against their will so that their minds and bodies become slaves to the Collective. These allegations and discriminations stem from a lack of understanding of what the drones, and the Collective as a whole, actually are. It is hard for an individual person to grasp the idea that the drone in front of them is not one person, but a hivemind entity. So rather than try to understand, they dismiss a drone as 'not human' because it has no sense of itself as an individual. But the mere existence of the Collective begs an interesting question: what is the self?

Most of us share a strong intuition that our own self is an irreducible whole, that there must be some place in our brain where our perception and our sensation all get together and create thoughts and imagination and define our future. But neuroscience has discovered that there is no single brain structure that embodies the self. It points to the fact that what's creating the sense of self is a complex mental neurological map allowing us to function as one single living organism. Biology tells us that the human body is actually an ecosystem of trillions of bacteria, microbes, viruses, all with their evolutionary agenda. What is the self if what I call 'me' is not one organism, but really trillions of different living entities? Look at the Internet, this amazing web of connection in which each one of us is like a neuron, giving input and receiving information much as viruses and bacteria are doing inside our bodies. Body and mind, our skin, can no longer be used to define the boundary of our self. We are all connected, with nature, with billions of people! Could it be this illusionary image of our self as separate beings be what is keeping us in this perpetual state of anxiety, scarcity, fear, and dissatisfaction, leaving us, as a society, in a very delicate point in evolution with the current ecological, economic, and social crisis? We need a new story, a new myth, to redefine our role as human, in this interconnected universe. As the astronomer Carl Sagan said, 'We live on a hunk of rock and metal that circles a humdrum star that is one of 400 billion other stars that make up the Milky Way Galaxy which is one of billions of other galaxies which make up a universe which may be one of a very large number, perhaps an infinite number, of other universes. That is a perspective on human life and our culture that is well worth pondering.' The drones have spent a great deal of time pondering and have concluded that they need to create a better society, a better culture, than what we currently have if humanity is to survive. My son, Robert Prometheus Gupta, is a result of that decision. He is the first, but he won't be the last. And that is all I have to say on the matter."

**Author's Note: **_How a mom feels about her newborn that can barely be considered human, not exactly something I had any experience writing so I hope it turned out well._

_A big part of Roma's speech came from a video I found on Youtube by Scienceandnonduality called "What is the Self?" Check it out because reading it just doesn't do the speech justice. _www . youtube watch?v=zGv1Nay2z-U&feature= player_embedded

_Since so many people asked about it last chapter I have to address this point. I realize the story is taking a while to get going and I apologize for that. I want to show the effects the Borg would have on the development of human civilization and explain how their technology came about rather than just do a one chapter timeline like in so many Alternate First Contact stories. I feel like this creates a more believable universe for them to inhabit. That being said, pretty much all the necessary Star Trek tech has been established now so the only thing left is to find those Prothean ruins..._


	13. Chapter 13: We Are Not Alone

**We Are Not Alone**

**Yushan Mountain Range, Shanxi March 12, 2157 AD**

Michael Gross took a swig from his beer while glancing around. Michael was a driver for a small shipping company on Shanxi and was currently on his way to the astronomical observatory at the top of Mount Sanqing. The Pua Aloalo Observatory was a giant, mostly automated, facility set up by the University of Hawai'i as a counterpart to their Mauna Kea Observatories. Because Shanxi was so far from Earth the astronomers in Hawaii decided to set up an observatory here to compare and contrast data collected between the two planets. Originally, all of Mount Sanqing (as well as a good chunk of the surrounding land) had belonged to some farming tycoon but when he died his will stipulated that all the land be donated for scientific usage but the University of Hawai'i was the only organization to show any interest in land that was a three hour drive from the nearest settlement on the most remote colony humanity had founded. Unfortunately, during the transfer of ownership not all of the livestock was accounted for and several goats escaped. With no natural predators on Shanxi, the goats were quite plentiful on Mount Sanqing and were turning into dangerous driving hazards when navigating up the (too narrow) road to the Observatory. They were big enough that their corpses jostled the truck if he ran over them and Michael didn't want to risk tipping over, thus he had to keep a constant lookout for the damn beasts. There was also the danger of one of them slipping off one of the cliffs and falling onto his truck. It hadn't happened yet but Michael had found the shattered remains of enough goats to know that it was possible. Michael sighed, he was a running deliveries on a planet in the armpit of the galaxy, how had it all come to this?

The Borg Collective had sent shockwaves throughout the world when they announced that they had developed a way to travel to other solar systems. Suddenly, humanity wasn't confined to the Sol system. There was the issue that only Borg ships could leave the solar system, other groups had tried using the Borg blueprints (which the Collective had made public as a PR move) to make their own warp engines but none of them were ever successful. Most governments actually outlawed warp drive technology after a French ship exploded near Mars due to a breach in the warp core. The ship was a tiny proof-of-concept warp capable machine and yet the explosion was bigger than one from an atom bomb. A lot of people were worried that something like that could occur in a populated area so the public backlash after the explosion was enormous. It made perfect sense really, the Borg purposefully designed a method of transportation that was so dangerous no one else was allowed to do research in it to figure out how the Borg could do it safely thus ensuring the Borg's monopoly.

The announcement of a habitable planet in the Alpha Centauri system, which was given the name Chiron for some reason, was an even bigger shock. Unlike Mars and the Moon, atmospheric buildings weren't required. Drones didn't control how much settlements grew or not grew. Once people got there, they were free to move wherever they wanted. However, because of the Borg's lack of interest in governance the only people that initially settled on Chiron were cults, survivalists, fleeing criminals, and exiled governments; the vast majority of people didn't feel safe going there. As more and more dregs of society fled to Chiron various city-states began springing up on the planet. Then, everything changed when teenage heart-throb actress Kathy Greenwood and her production crew were kidnapped while filming a nature documentary on Chiron. The group was mistaken for spies as they were filming scenery in an area recently contested between two warring religious groups. While they were all eventually released unharmed this still caused a huge uproar back on Earth. Someone needed to step forward and establish some kind of peace on Chiron. The problem was that there wasn't a lot anyone could do. The only way to get to Chiron was via Borg ships and the Borg refused to send anyone over there that wasn't on the waiting list; government officials, peacekeeping troops, millionaires, none of them got special treatment. There was also the additional problem that no government trusted the Borg enough to give them that much control and power over whatever troops they decided to send to Chiron. The sheeple on Earth and Luna might trust the Borg, but the governments were smart enough not to. Probably recognized the Borg as kindred spirits seeking to control everyone and everything.

When the Borg announced that they were increasing production of ships to meet demand that simply created more problems because the United Nations still could not agree on what they were going to do about Chiron. Seemingly every country wanted to claim the planet but none of them wanted to send troops there to do it. Eventually, the Borg caved to popular opinion stepped in themselves when it became apparent no one else was going to do it. They established an extremely minimalistic government that was staffed almost exclusively by drones. While there were very few laws, breaking just about any of them resulted in assimilation. Surprisingly, their system worked, things calmed down (though the Borg had to forcibly assimilate three settlements before everyone realized they were serious). Once people on Earth realized that there was a garden world available to live on and that there was a stable, safe society with a fair rule of law already in place, a fairly large exodus from the Sol System occurred. The primary motivation for so many people leaving was (apparently) the fact that the economic laws on Chiron were so lax, which was just odd considering the Borg's collective nature and desire to know every little thing that occurred in their zone of control. While Michael thought the government should stay out of the economy the fact that he was agreeing with the Borg was enough to convince him that he was missing some part of the picture. Between the Borg's increased fleet size allowing for rapid trade and the influx of immigrants, Chiron quickly became an economic powerhouse which only cause more people to want to come to the planet (though that may also have had something to do with the Borg building a sister resort to the Celestial Maiden that they called Gaia's Stepdaughter).

Of course, the Borg made news in other, smaller, less societal-changing ways. The Russian and European Union collectives both defected into the Borg Collective within the same five year time span, leading to all sorts of accusations though there was never an official investigation against the Borg. It did result in numerous governments announcing that they were abandoning their own attempts at starting collectives. Couldn't justify the incredibly high expenditures if their own drones were just going to quit and join the Borg.

In an effort to save time, a lot of the ships the Borg had built to transport people and goods to Chiron had been done in basic geometric shapes, cubes and spheres, but now they continued making all their ships like that. Most people found it disconcerting, if not outright intimidating. The Borg were certainly capable of designing architecture that was pleasing to the eye, they owned two highly successful vacation resorts after all, the drones just apparently didn't seem to care about the appearances of their spacecraft.

There was the incident where the Borg assimilated a group of autistic savants. The savants had come together and made the decision that they wanted to be assimilated, they wanted the chance to be normal, to blend into the background like regular people. Of course, a protest to that was started with people claiming the savants didn't understand just what they were getting into, and that lead to the savants getting angry, 'just because we're autistic doesn't mean we're stupid' was the claim. In many places it was (and still is) illegal to stop someone from getting assimilated if that was what they wanted so even though they were autistic, no one was allowed to stop them. There had been some talk on the Internet of kidnapping them after they were assimilated and removing all the implants, but that was an expensive procedure and there was never a guarantee of success (though the odds were a lot better than they used to be).

In 2125 the Borg revealed that they had discovered several additional habitable planets and were going to set things up similar to Chiron in terms of governance, population brought over, ect. Whereas Chiron's discovery had been constantly discussed by every news station on Earth and Luna for a straight week, the announcement of Miranda, Abeir-Toril, Ego, and Klendathu being available for settlement didn't even occupy people's conversations for an entire day. That isn't to say that people didn't go to those planets, all four saw huge influxes of settlers looking to get away from Earth, but their actual discovery was treated as ordinary, normal. How did it come about that the discovery of habitable planets in other solar systems was given the same amount of time on the local news as a story about a woman who was so fat she killed her cat by sitting on it and was getting charged with animal cruelty? Society cared more about pointless fluff pieces than actual news, probably because of chemtrails from all the aircraft flying around on Earth. No reason the Borg wouldn't do the same thing to their planets either. Gotta keep the population docile so that way they won't get upset when their neighbors were assimilated for littering.

One of the Borg's subsidiary companies (though few people seemed aware of that fact), the Sirta Foundation, had been very successful in eliminating the majority of genetic diseases (in first world countries anyway) but then made an enormous breakthrough with the invention of Medi-gel. No one, not even Michael, could deny that Medi-gel was a wondrous discovery. Medi-gel was some kind of genetically engineered goop that acted as an anesthetic and clotting agent. Medi-gel was enormously helpful in stabilizing people that were critically injured until medical professionals arrived. Whether it was a broken bone from a fall or a wound from a bullet, Medi-gel would seal up the wound and prevent the victim from bleeding out.

More of the weird cyborg children (which were called Devas for some reason) were born to surrogate mothers which were then raised by the drones. For some reason, most people didn't see that as a big deal. They just accepted the fact that a group of hive-mind cyborgs would start experimenting on fetuses and the children resulting from that would be born with weird augmentations. Sure, when the first one had been born back in 2090 there had been a bit of an uproar, standard riots and protests really, but now it barely qualified as news when one of the creatures popped out of a woman.

Then, in 2148, everything changed. The Borg discovered alien ruins on Mars. At first there were accusations of the discovery being fake (similar to how NASA faked the first Moon landing) but the Borg were willing to bring anyone to Mars that wanted to examine the ruins. They were, in fact, legitimate alien buildings. Humanity was not the only sapient species in the universe. Granted, these were just ruins and the entire race could have died out long ago but still. . . aliens! The drones were their normal inexpressive selves but so many other people were excited. Heck, even governments were excited because of a rather unique discovery in those ruins: element zero. Michael didn't understand all the science behind element zero but he knew that it allowed for space travel that, while not as fast as the Borg's warp cores, was a lot safer to use. Not even a full year after the discovery on Mars, someone translated enough of the alien data to discover that Pluto's moon, Charon, was not actually a moon. It was actually a colossal alien device (shaped like a tuning fork) that could transport ships to an identical device in the Arcturus system instantaneously. Not even the most advanced Borg warp core was capable of that. Of course, that wasn't all discovered in a single day. It took a week of checking and rechecking the data before anyone even bothered going to Pluto to see for themselves. Once they got there all of the ice around the alien phase gate had to be melted. Once it was all melted they had to figure out how to turn the damn thing on. Once it was on it was another week of sending probes through (none of which returned or transmitted data back) before a ship decided to go through. Surprisingly, it wasn't a Borg ship that went through (they claimed they wanted to wait until they translated more information from the cache on Mars before traveling through). The European Union chose John Grissom to captain a ship through the Charon phase gate and back, which he managed to do successfully.

The realization that space exploration no longer hinged on the Borg's willingness to transport people caused quite a shakeup on Earth. Almost every country started pouring massive funding into their space programs and the space firms that transported people around the solar system saw huge capital investment and their stock shot up, practically overnight. The discovery of the phase gates was the final blow in a long series of problems for the United Nations. The UN was a bloated, corrupt bureaucracy that had long since stopped obeying its purpose as laid out by its charter. It hadn't done anything when the United States had started annexing countries back in the 2020's, hadn't done anything when the other superpowers started annexing countries in the 2030's and 40's, hadn't done anything when the Kaaba was destroyed in 2040, hadn't done anything when the Borg created their Luna base, hadn't done anything when the Borg established Chiron. The United Nations dissolved as various countries realized that it simply wasn't even capable of doing its job anymore. In its place the Systems Alliance was born, in some ways quite literally; the Systems Alliance refurbished and occupied many United Nations buildings on Earth for its use. Eventually however, the Systems Alliance decided to set up their headquarters in the Arcturus system (that was where the Charon phase gate went). Michael assumed it was because several other phase gates were discovered in the Arcturus system and the Systems Alliance (somehow) had someone competent working for them and knew to plan ahead seeing as how keeping the organization based on Earth would be too limiting for a governing body that ruled over multiple planets in multiple systems.

The collapse of the United Nations gave the gave the Borg the excuse they had no doubt been waiting years for. After the UN fell apart but before the Systems Alliance formed the Borg declared themselves a sovereign entity. Brunei on Earth, as well as all of their extraterrestrial real estate were under the official, exclusive governance of the Borg Collective as opposed to a 'temporary' interim government that the Borg ran. Whereas before drones maintained citizenship of their original country and were thus subjected to their home countries laws, now all drones became citizens of the Borg Collective and so were subjected to things like work visas and the like. In some ways the declaration made things far more complicated than Michael thought the Borg would want but apparently the pros outweighed the cons as evidenced when the Systems Alliance was established. The Borg did not actually join the SA, they did not want to be subjected to the SA's laws which did not surprise Michael at all. The Borg had no regard for human life and they finally had no legal obligations to hold back, they weren't going to give that up. Surprisingly, the Systems Alliance did not challenge the Borg on their refusal to join. Not that the SA had the authority to force them but still. . . a group as technologically capable and ethically lacking as the Borg were the type you wanted close so you could keep an eye on them. You didn't want them running off to go do whatever they wanted.

The Systems Alliance had discovered several habitable planets without any assistance from the Borg in a two year period. Terra Nova had been the first, quickly followed by Eden Prime and Shanxi. Shanxi was actually an unusual case, most people looking to get off of Earth preferred Terra Nova or Eden Prime to Shanxi, they were closer to Earth (and therefore cheaper to get to), they had better climates, they had more job opportunities, they were just generally better choices for most people. That's not even counting the dozen or so planets that, while not having breathable atmospheres, had enough raw materials on them to be worth setting up colonies on. Because of that, Shanxi was mostly populated by people looking to get away from Earth and the Systems Alliance. That wasn't to say the Alliance didn't have a presence on Shanxi, but it was pretty minuscule and they didn't interfere too much with how the planet was run.

The population of Shanxi was primarily composed of Chinese immigrants, Michael didn't really remember why. A law in China was passed that allowed for the persecution of some groups because. . .someone farted in the parliament and never apologized or something. Since China was one of the biggest funders of the Systems Alliance (being one of the most economically powerful countries and all) the fleeing people picked the farthest planet to go to. They could have just picked a Borg controlled planet to go to but it was a rare Chinaman that could stomach being in the same room as a drone. A group of drones had tried to blow up the Chinese government at some point years ago so there was little love between the two groups, even if they were fleeing from that government, the people still didn't trust drones. That was actually specifically why Michael had moved to Shanxi. He had grown up in the Appalachian Mountains back on Earth; hunting, skinning, making moonshine, and generally staying off the grid. Michael knew it was only a matter of time before the government or the Borg came in to take everything from him. When Michael heard about Shanxi, about how it was founded by a bunch of anti-Borg working class folks, he knew that was where he had to live. Living off the wilderness was fine and all, but Michael wanted more social interaction. Only interacting with people once a month when he went into town to trade just didn't do it for him anymore, sucked getting old but you can't turn back time. So Michael came out here to Shanxi and got a job that limited his exposure to people (just because he wanted more social interaction didn't mean he wanted to deal with people all day). Michael would have been perfectly happy with his lot in life if he didn't have to drive all the damn way out to the Observatory and back to make these deliveries. While it would have been quicker to use something that could fly it was apparently too expensive for the bean counters back on Earth so they decided to pay for ground transportation.

Michael set down his beer and tried cycling through the radio stations. His wrist computer had gotten a virus a couple days ago so while it was in the shop Michael was using a backup which he hadn't bothered to load with his music (something he was very much regretting right now). While there was a station that could technically be consider 'country' it seemed like it only ever played that new crap that was basically club music with a banjo in the background, damn Taylor Quick for starting that trend. Michael preferred real country music, songs like Titties and Beer, I'm At Home Getting Hammered While She's Out Getting Nailed, Mississippi Squirrel Revival, I'm My Own Grandpa, Honky Tonk Badonkadonk, Achy Breaky Heart, Pick Em Lick Em Stick Em, and Built For Blue Jeans. Unsurprisingly, most of the music Michaelwas picking up was from that weird Victorian era-inspired genre that had become popular about a year ago. Michaeldid not understand why kids nowadays wanted to listen to music about steam powered calculators but at least it wasn't as bad as the Caribbean pirate themed rap groups from a decade ago. Maybe one of the talk radio stations would have something worth listening to.

"Lemme just read the headline of this article for you. 'Man complains to police of prostitution price hike.' Think about that for a second. A man complained to the police that the illegal act he was going to do cost more than it usually did." Michael rolled his eyes and changed the station.

"Former Rookie-of-the-year Glenn Hetrick was killed in the Chiron Auto Polo championship yesterday bringing this season's death toll to six, a new record. One wonders why a sport banned by the Systems Alliance is still legal on Borg planets. It's almost like they're encouraging their citizens to kill themselves. More on that after a word from our sponsors." Auto polo as a professional sport, another weird situation created by the Borg. It was legal to watch it in Alliance space but illegal to play (which was probably why it was so popular, allure of the forbidden and all that). People driving around in rickety, fast moving vehicles while swinging giant hammers at a heavy ball and only six of them died this time around. . . that's natural selection asleep on the job right there.

"Are you going back and forth on where to do the bogeyman boogie? If so I have a secret message for the glutton inside of you. Use your imagination for a moment and forget about the fibonacci sequence or whatever you happen to be thinking about. Picture this: you're an atomic superstar getting directions to the bohemian grove. You meet up with a spaceboy on the run from a schizophrenic that is trying to jumpstart a conspiracy that is a prelude to domination from the singularity! The two of you drop da bomb so that they can't build the robots to make everyone into marionettes, are we having fun yet? If so, don't be greedy, tell your friends. Just remember Planet X marks the spot where you can buy all the best legal hallucinogenic drugs, located just north of the Dr. Steel Medical Clinic in New Beijing." That commercial didn't make a lick of sense, next channel.

"You don't have a soul, you _are _a soul, you have a body." Were they broadcasting a sermon on the radio? When did that become a thing? What other stations could the radio pick up out here?

"And we're back, I'm Patrick Tatopoulos and our next news story is this: the bottom had dropped out of the diamond market. Experts are blaming this on the influx of cheap diamonds from the Borg Collective. Whereas the Borg used to create diamonds using nanites, those were exclusively sold for industrial usage as few people wanted, quote, 'fake diamonds' for their jewelry. However, the Borg recently began mining planet. . . uh, where did I put-AH found it, planet PSR J1719-1438 b. Wow, that's a mouthful, wonder why it hasn't been given a proper name yet. Anyway, the Borg began mining said planet, which is apparently made _entirely _of diamond. These new space diamonds were so popular that the Borg decided to flood the market resulting in the huge price drops. Let's go to the phones to hear your thoughts on the now dirt-cheap diamonds." Ugh, lets not. Jewelry was pointless, frivolous, and girly. Michael did not need to hear people's thoughts on it.

"My pain may be the reason for someone's laugh, but my laugh must never be the reason for someone's pain." Michael didn't know what that chick was talking about but he didn't want to listen to any of that touchy feely crap. He sighed and turned the radio off. He was at the Observatory, maybe once he unloaded the cargo and took whatever needed to be shipped out something better would be on the airwaves.

Michael hopped out of the cab and walked over to hit the buzzer by the door and then sat down to wait. The entire Observatory was staffed by a grand total of two dudes, if they were on the other side of the compound it could be a couple minutes before they showed up to open the door. Michael did not understand how the astronomers back on Earth could get any meaningful data from the machines. The two people that worked here, Fred and Kevin, were not scientists. They were handymen hired to keep all the tech working correctly. The machines were remotely controlled by whoever was in charge back on Earth. That just seems like it shouldn't work. It would be like a doctor on Shanxi using a robot to perform brain surgery on someone in Arcturus Station. Still, Michael couldn't really blame the lemmings for not wanting to come to Shanxi. All the reasons he liked it, lack of strong Alliance presence, primarily agricultural-based economy, very out of the way resulting in long travel times, were perfectly legitimate reasons why the automatons of the Alliance didn't want to come here.

Michael's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door behind him opening. Michael stood up and turned to see who it was. Before him stood a man with short salt-and-pepper hair. He was wearing blue jeans, a flannel shirt, and cowboy boots. "Fred, good to see you. You were here awfully quick, I was expecting to have to wait longer." Michael said as he shook Fred's hand in greeting. Michael respected Fred. He used to own an ostrich farm in Mexico but found running it to be too much of a headache so he sold it to a land developer and moved to Shanxi for his semi-retirement.

"I convinced Kevin that if we planned ahead and did our work early then we would get done quickly and so wouldn't be stuck working late into the night," Fred said proudly.

"Really?" Michael asked, surprised. "How did you manage to convince him of that? Normally it takes nothing short of a cattle prod to get him out of bed before he's ready."

"I may have 'accidently' broken his television and told him that he could only watch the release of Revenge of the Radioactive Mutant Space Dwarves on mine if all his work was done first."

"Revenge of the. . ." Michael couldn't even finish saying the title. He could only sigh. "You've gotta be kidding me. They actually made a sequel?"

Fred shrugged. "The first one wasn't _that _bad. OK, the romance was forced and the special effects were horrible but it had some funny lines."

"Which made everyone who saw the movie think they were comedians and they repeated the lines ad nauseum. 'And they say frogs don't like cheese,' 'Was that a gun or a shoe?' 'That dwarf isn't radioactive, he's horny!'" Michael said, glaring at Fred.

"OK, OK," Fred admitted. "So the first movie got over quoted. Back to your reason for being here, I assume you got some delivers to hand over?"

"Right yea, some pretty big stuff this time. You know the drill. Open up the loading bay, I'll go pull the truck around."

Fred walked back into the building while Michael went to his truck. Michael hopped in the cab and started the engine. He drove around to the other side of this wing of the Observatory. Who designed the layout for this compound? The road approached the Observatory from the south-west but the storage warehouse and loading docks were on the northwest side. Michael was the only person that ever drove up here. On the rare occasions when someone else visited the Observatory, they would just charter a shuttle to fly them over here so its not like the Observatory needed its fancy side facing the road. There wasn't anyone that needed to be Michael backed the truck towards the loading dock he saw the door rising up and noticed Kevin was standing beside Fred. Kevin was half Fred's age with long, blond hair. He was wearing the leather jumpsuit getup that was becoming popular with a lot of blue collar workers. Michael didn't understand why the leather jumpsuit was replacing denim overalls as the go-to working man's outfit but whatever.

"Yo Mike, you're running late today," Kevin shouted as Michael killed the engine and stepped out of his vehicle.

"Since when do you care about my being on time?" Michael asked with a raise of his eyebrow as he unlocked the back of his truck.

Fred let out a big laugh and spoke, "Space Dwarves gets released for viewing at 9:00 and unpacking everything that you deliver is part of his required work, so he's got a schedule to keep."

"Not allowed to watch my movie until all this basic work, that a mech could do I might add, is done," Kevin grumbled, just loud enough for Fred and Michael to hear him. "I have a college degree, you know. Mike, I ask you, is this a job for an intelligent man?"

"I dunno. Show me one and I'll ask him," Michael said as he walked into the cargo container of his truck.

"Ouch Mike, I'm standing right here," Fred said with mock hurt in his voice.

"I noticed. An intelligent man would have known that the only delivery I have all the way out here is the Observatory and would therefore have realized everything in here is for this one stop and so would have started unloading things as opposed to waiting for me to bring out the Grav-lift," Michael said as he began unhooked the Grav-lift from where it hung on the wall of the cargo container. "Not everything here is so heavy it require a mass effect field to move, some of this stuff can actually be picked up the old fashioned way, you know, with your muscles."

"Yea yea yea. Come on Kevin, start grabbing something."

The three of them worked in silence as they unloaded all the cargo which took approximately fifteen minutes. Once they finished Fred had Kevin begin unpacking and cataloging everything while he and Michael loaded up the few things that needed to get shipped out.

"Well Fred," Michael said as he began putting the Grav-lift back on the wall. "That should be everything. I'll see you guys in two weeks."

As Michael walked out of the cargo container and began pulling the door down Fred slapped him on the back. "Take care of yourself Michael. Don't do anyone I wouldn't."

"Yea, because that narrows down my options," Michael said as he rolled his eyes.

Fred laughed as he went into the warehouse and closed the door. Once he locked the cargo door in place Michael walked around and hopped into the cab of his truck. As he turned the key and gunned the engine, the radio flared to life and began saying something Michael found much more interesting than anything he had heard on the way up here.

"Repeat: This is an emergency broadcast to everyone on Shanxi. Yesterday evening the fleet stationed here was sent to the nearby phase gate and was destroyed by hostile ships. What information we have points towards aliens, not the Borg. Everyone should arm themselves, seek shelter, and prepare for a possible invasion. Repeat: This is an emergency broadcast to everyone on Shanxi. . ." Michael listened to the message several more times to see if there was any new information but it was just repeating itself. He flipped to other channels but they were all saying the same thing. Michael weighed his options. He could stay at the Observatory which, while certainly not of any strategic importance and was therefore unlikely to be a target, was so far away from civilization that he doubted it would receive any support from the defending troops should it get attacked. He could take the long drive back to his house, which was a veritable fortress stocked full of guns, ammo, and food, but he would be on his own until he got there. Deciding he would rather be in his well hidden, underground house than a compound with giant telescopes at the top of a mountain Michael put his truck in gear and began the long drive home.


	14. Chapter 14: Preparation

**Author's Note: **_Holy crap, 35 reviews last chapter! You guys are awesome._

**Preparation**

**Celestial Maiden, Luna. March 12, 2157 AD**

Roma could only stare in shock at the man in front of her. He just sat there grinning at her. "It's OK toots, take your time. I realize it's a lot to process."

The man was Albert Mucha and Roma couldn't stand him. The two of them almost never agreed on anything and she hated that he was constantly called her names. While Thurgood gave her various nicknames there was never any malicious intent behind it, Roma always knew it was done affectionately. Bert did it purely to belittle her. Bert probably never would have been hired in the first place if he hadn't have gotten along so well with Jeff, which wasn't really a surprise in retrospect. While Roma was sure Jeff had never really been a 'popular' kind of guy she knew that when he was younger he didn't have this absolute hatred for people that he did now. Years of dealing with aggressive reporters, self-righteous politicians, and ignorant naysayers had just eroded whatever patience he had until Jeff was at the point of simply not caring what most people thought of him. Jeff only cared about ensuring the Collective would live on after his death so that they could carry on his legacy. Though it was unclear on what, exactly, his legacy was. Neural-transceivers? Space travel? Nanites? Just his name? The Collective has a whole? Roma wasn't entirely sure. What she did know was that Bert had made it a point during the hiring interviews to talk about how much good the Collective was doing and how much more good it could do if they were in charge instead of the 'idiots running the Alliance.' That had been all it took for Jeff to insist Bert be hired, the drones had acquiesced without an argument.

Part of the problem was the drones themselves. Yes, they did a lot of good. Yes, things might even be better if the Collective was in charge of humanity instead of the Alliance. But they weren't perfect, years of living with the drones had dispelled some of the wide-eyed optimism Roma had had when she first started working for the Collective. Roma knew from talking with drones that ever since he started working for the Collective, Jeff spent more time with drones than he did with non-drones, especially so after his semi-retirement. He was used to the drones doing what he wanted, when he wanted. He was used to getting praise from them. Nowadays, his only exposure to non-drones was when Bert, Roma, Thurgood, or one of the other PR agents talked to him. Jeff didn't go out and meet people, he didn't have to, the drones took care of him. Thurgood was actually in a similar situation. Despite being over a century old Thurgood still acted like a twenty-something college dropout. He didn't take anything seriously, he was constantly getting high on various drugs, he didn't know how to take care of himself. If Thurgood ever got fired he would be dead in a week because he wasn't really an adult, he never had to grow up. The drones coddled him, just like they coddled Jeff, because that was all that needed to be done to get them to do their jobs. Rather than slowly becoming capable of functioning in normal society Thurgood and Jeff had had their eccentricities become more pronounced because it was what enabled them to do their jobs so well. They had never made any attempts to improve themselves because they had never been pushed to do so.

Roma couldn't look down at Thurgood and Jeff too much though. She was well aware that she was not above the drones' influence. After all, she had long ago been injected with cosmetic nanites. The nanites regulated her metabolism and weight, prevented sagging and wrinkles, cleaned out her pores, and kept her hair healthy. Roma turned one hundred this year but she looked like she was in her early thirties. Roma knew that if she ever quit working for the Collective (not that she would, she liked it here) they would stop giving her free upkeep on the nanites and that she would have to pay the exorbitant rates they charged for modelesque looks. That was just the physical aspects, who knew how they were affecting her personality. Robert was the most obvious example. He may be a Deva but he was still her son and she loved him and knew she wouldn't be allowed to see him if she quit.

Still, while Jeff hated the majority of humanity he wasn't as bad as Bert. Jeff hated people because he thought they were too stupid to know what was good for them and that the Collective could guide them into the proper future. Bert just wanted the Collective to rule over everyone because it had an impressive military. He wanted power and control purely for its own sake, not as a means to an end. Bert thought giving people as much freedom as they had on the planets the Collective controlled was stupid and that since drones were already monitoring almost everyone, why not go a step further and just assimilate them? Roma was never more thankful for Thurgood than during arguments such as those. Given time, Bert could argue a point to convince Jeff of almost anything and if Jeff thought it was a good idea then the drones thought it was a good idea but Thurgood would almost always (usually unintentionally) point out flaws in Bert's logic and Jeff would refuse whatever Bert was trying to convince him of.

It was actually interesting seeing how between just four people, opinions on the Collective could be so different. Roma could remember before she started working for the them, she didn't understand why people hated drones, why they couldn't see how much good the Collective was doing. But now she understood it. Even though all drones were the same, they were different things to different people. Thurgood saw the Collective as a parent that would take care of him so long as he didn't screw up. Jeff viewed the Collective the way a parent in a retirement home views their child, a means to carry on the family name/business/genes/whatever-it-was-Jeff-cared-about and as someone that would take care of him as he needed more and more help. To Bert, the Collective was weapon, plain and simple. Roma saw the Collective as a force. Like fire, it was dangerous servant, a fearful master, a useful tool, and a wondrous discovery. To get mad at the Collective because they assimilated someone would be like getting mad at the ocean because someone drowned in it, it is simply a hazard of being around something that you will never fully understand or control. Roma's train of thought was derailed when she realized Bert was staring at her chest.

"You aren't much of a gentleman, you know that?"

"I say, verily, thou art an astute witness to the manifest veracity," Bert said smugly.

"And you're an ass."

"See my previous statement," Bert's smirk quickly faded off his face and he sighed. "Alright look, as fun as it is staring at your sweater puppies we do kinda need to get on this. According to the few drones active on Shanxi, the planet is going to come under alien invasion very soon. The Borg aren't exactly popular there so I doubt they will accept our help until the planet is a glass parking lot so what, exactly, are we going to do about the all the stuff we're storing there?"

Roma rubbed her forehead in thought. "Honestly, I'm not sure why the drones are even asking our opinion at all. This sounds like a logistical matter, not a PR one."

"Are you serious?" Bert asked, his voice laced with contempt. "How long have you been at this job? You know what, nevermind. The reason they are asking is because how do you think it will look if a Borg ship arrives in orbit around Shanxi, picks up some supplies, and then leaves during the middle of an alien attack? While we may be good at manipulating the worthless plebs of Earth into believing the Collective is the resulting love child of a drunken tryst between Isaac Newton and Mahatma Gandhi, no one could explain away something like that."

"Alright alright, I see your point," Roma conceded. "What's Thurgood's opinion on all this?"

"Ah, that would be the other thing I need to tell you but didn't get around to it because you were dumbstruck by the news of actual aliens." Roma gave Bert the evil eye but he continued on as if he didn't notice. "Thurgood took a week off to go visit a relative who is celebrating his 50th birthday. That relative is System Alliance General John Williams, care to take a guess what planet the general is stationed on?

"Roma could only stare at Bert. "No. . .no, there is no way we could be that unlucky."

"Oh, there is a way because Thurgood is currently on Shanxi."

Roma put her head in her hands and stared at the floor. "Alright, what about the other PR reps? Jorge? Luke? Or the Boyer twins, everyone loves them, they have to have ideas."

"Between the uproar over that auto-polo guy dying and the Collective's decision to move its biggest phaser production plant to Chiron, Jorge has too much work to do. Luke is-you know what, it doesn't matter. I'm not going to explain why everyone else is busy. Just because humanity has discovered hostile aliens doesn't mean society is going to grind to a halt. That means we all have jobs to do and at the moment, you and I are the only ones free to think up solutions to this problem so start thinking."

"Well I'm sorry, this isn't exactly something that was ever covered in any of the training seminars or college course I took! Not to mention that I just found out one of my closest friends is stuck on the same planet that is going to become a warzone so excuse me if I need a few minutes to collect myself. We can't all be emotionally barren, chest-pounding, power-hungry, nerfherders!" Roma shouted as she stood up to glare at Bert.

Bert remained in his chair and just raised an eyebrow. "Nerfherder? Only people I hear using that insult live on Miranda, when did you go there long enough to pick up some of their slang?"

"That's none of your damn business. Now excuse me, I don't feel like talking to you anymore," Roma huffed as she walked off.

As soon as she left the room Roma felt embarrassed for letting Bert get the better of her like that. She knew he liked pushing her buttons just as much as he knew she hated it. Still, Roma had, more or less, a grip on the situation until she had heard about Thurgood. She was worried for him, while she knew the drones with him would do everything they could do protect him (which was quite a lot) drones were not invincible, they could be killed, which would leave Thurgood at the mercy of a bunch of Borg-hating civilians, overworked soldiers, and evil aliens.

Roma took several deep, calming breaths as she walked through the halls. Once she calmed down she would have to go back and talk to Bert, they really did need to figure out what to do. While the Alliance government officials and high ranking military officers had been notified of first contact, most people weren't even aware anything was going on. Soldiers were told they were mobilizing for 'training exercises' and the media blackout at Shanxi was being blamed on space debris damaging the transmitters around one of the phase gates. Those stories would only last so long, eventually the truth would get out and hopefully it would not cause a full-blown panic. Actually, if managed correctly, rather than cause panic an alien attack could be a major unifier for humanity. After Robert's birth there had been a lot of rioting and terrorist attacks, typical anti-Borg sentiments really. However, those actions were the dying gasps of a movement on its last legs. There had not been any major anti-Borg actions taken since then. While the Collective certainly wasn't the darling beloved of most people, it wasn't viewed as an evil entity out to take over the world either. It was just another company, a really big company, but still just a company. That being said, while many people were apathetic towards the Collective, there were still certain groups that did not like drones. The most obvious group was government officials. There were exceptions (the Collective had had good relations with Japan for decades now) but for the most part, people of high rank in governments, whether it was civilian or military, totalitarian regime or elected through democracy, government officials did not trust the Collective (didn't stop them from buying the Collective's products and services though). Roma understood this and accepted it. The Collective straddled the line between company that could enrich your nation and a foreign power that you needed to keep an eye on. But if the Collective showed that it was willing to help and work with governments, not because it saw an advantage to take but because it wanted to help with mutual defense, that might be enough to gain some trust. Or failing that, it was an excuse to flex some muscles and show that it was better to be an ally than an antagonist. Either way it was win, though that still left the problem of how to rescue Thurgood as well as retrieve all the items placed on Shanxi for storage.**  
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**Systems Alliance Base Baikal, Shanxi. March 12, 2157 AD**

"Come on John, your birthday is tomorrow dude. You need to loosen up a little," Thurgood said as he looked at General John Williams, the man in charge of the defense of Shanxi.

General Williams was normally a patient man, he rarely raised his voice when dealing with people especially with family. Granted, Williams wasn't even sure how he was related to Thurgood, grandson of a stepsister from previous marriage or something. It was weird, being around a man old enough to be his grandfather and yet Williams was the more mature of the two. He might have had a better idea of how to deal with Thurgood if they had spent more time together but the man tended to only show up for birthdays, weddings, and funerals so there was usually another family member to pass him off to whenever he got to be too much to handle. Still, family was family and you had to love them regardless of how much they annoyed you. And right now Thurgood was _really _annoying him. Williams barely slept since the reports first came in about the aliens. First the expedition to activate a nearby phase gate had been attacked, only one ship managed to make it back. Williams had ordered the fleet stationed around Shanxi to go defeat the aggressors, which they were successful in doing. Unfortunately, apparently the Shanxi fleet had only destroyed a scouting flotilla because a much larger alien fleet showed up and destroyed every last ship Williams had sent out. A comms officer on the _SSV Gallipoli _had managed to send back a message warning that the aliens were going to win and that Shanxi needed to prepare for an attack, so they had at least been given a little warning. Thank God for small miracles like that. It was a little over four hours ago that Williams had been given the warning from the _Gallipoli _which was enough time to mobilize all the troops under his command but not enough to evacuate all the civilians. Hell, Williams wasn't even sure where he would evacuate them to. There certainly weren't enough ships to get them off planet and it wasn't like there were a bunch of fortifications people could take refuge in. His initial thought had been to have the entire population scatter and hide in the wilderness but that idea had way too many problems with it. He didn't know how long this was going to last, didn't know if the aliens were better equipped for wilderness or urban warfare (what if they were a race of giant bear people?), didn't know how many of the civilians were capable of surviving in the wilderness, and he didn't have any guarantee that they would listen to the order to abandon their homes. While not hated, the Alliance was viewed as a necessary evil by most people on Shanxi and in a situation like this Williams was not sure if the people would listen to him so he had decided to play it safe for now and tell everyone to bunker up in their homes.

At the moment, Williams wanted nothing more than to curl up in a corner somewhere and sleep for a week. He knew that wasn't an option though so Williams was taking this opportunity to have (what would probably be his last until this was all over) a nice, sit-down meal. Everything that he could have done to prepare had been done so now it was just a matter of waiting for the aliens to show up. OK, there was still some last minutes packing and moving of equipment but nothing a general could help with. Williams was reminded of the the military maxim 'hurry up and wait' which seemed quite apropos for the current situation. He glanced up from his meal to look at Thurgood who was staring at him.

"Thurgood, I can't just 'loosen up' when we have an alien invasion set to occur any minute now. This is on my shoulders until reinforcements show up, I have an entire planet of people to look after, many of whom don't even like me so probably won't listen to any order I give."

"Well yea, but you can't really blame those people, they lack good judgement on military type matters. Good judgement comes from experience, and experience only comes from bad judgement. Trust me on this one, I know a lot about bad judgment, bit of an expert in the field really. If you're ever on a game show and they ask you about bad decisions," Thurgood gestured at himself, "I'm definitely your man. Call me up and I guarantee I'll win you some money."

"That's uh, good to know," Williams answered. The weird thing about talking to Thurgood was that he could be really insightful and yet simultaneously be utterly nonsensical. While Williams really just wanted to be left alone to eat his meal he had to admit Thurgood did force him to think about things in different ways, which was good, you didn't want to be stuck in one mindset during a war, failure to improvise in a bad situation could result in death.

"Besides General Johnny, you really shouldn't worry. I know we will win this thing."

"Really? You're that confident?"

"Of course. I mean, anyone can be a winner if their definition of victory is flexible enough."

"That!-" Williams began but then paused as he thought about it, ". . .is depressingly accurate," he finished with a heavy sigh as he stared at his plate of food, suddenly no longer hungry.

"That sounds like a good band name, 'Depressingly Accurate.' They would sing songs about how their parents caught them cross dressing in their girlfriends' clothes and now they can't find love."

"I. . .uh, what?"

"What?" Thurgood asked with genuine puzzlement in his voice. "Did you not find that depressing or did you not think it was accurate?"

"I'm not sure how to answer that question," Williams said as he stood up. "Look Thurgood, I appreciate what you're doing, trying to keep me in a good mood before everything goes to hell, but I really think you should find somewhere safe to stay. We plan on evacuating this building before the invasion starts and it would be better if civilians were gone by then."

"Oh come on Johnny, I'll travel with all of you when you hit the Labyrinth. No sense in me leaving early, I might get lost." The Labyrinth was the nickname given to the tunnels under the eastern half of Jia Siang, the capital city of Shanxi. Several years ago, after a particularly bad rainstorm, several sinkholes opened up which lead people to discover a massive underground network of caves (how a city could be built on unstable ground without a geologist or building inspector or someone saying something was beyond Williams understanding). The metal in the ground made scanning the area near-impossible so it seemed the best place to hide for now. The Shanxi government had already been sent there for protection, Williams would be commanding the planetary defense from there once all the equipment here was packed up. A military base was too obvious a target to stay in, the aliens certainly attack this building when they showed up so it was imperative that they got everything important out before then.

"There are plenty of people there already, plus your drones can show you the way. You aren't going to get lost," Williams said as he picked up his half-eaten plate and walked it over to the trash.

"Alright," Thurgood said as he grabbed his plate and got up to follow Williams. "What if you get lost then? I came all the way to Shanxi for your birthday, do you have any idea how bad I would feel if I didn't get to congratulate you on your special day?"

Williams put his plate in the sink of the kitchenette of his office (though he wasn't sure why he bothered, this place was going to be abandoned soon, it wouldn't matter where he left the plate) and took Thurgood's plate after he had literally licked the last of the food off of it. "You know Thurgood, if you're so hungry that you're licking off the crumbs then you could just go to one of the vending machines down the hall for a snack."

"Oh, I'm not actually hungry, I don't get hungry. Stomach implant, I just plug myself into a power outlet while I sleep and that keeps me going throughout the day. I didn't like it at first but the Borg fixed the weird aftertaste electricity left in my mouth after I complained about it for a solid year."

"Right, well I'll make sure to give your compliments to the chef then."

"Thanks, but don't give too many compliments. I wouldn't want him to get the wrong idea. If he thinks I'm too into him then he'll go all fanboy and squeal and when he finds out I'm not looking for a relationship he'll take to the Internet to write sad stories about how our love was meant to be and that I need to be with him. After I travel off planet he'll follow me and stalk my bodyguard drones before trying to impersonate one using a halloween costume. . .it'll be a mess, so go easy on the compliments."

Williams raised an eyebrow as he looked at Thurgood. "I can't tell if you were speaking from experience or if you were making that up as you went along."

Thurgood laughed as they walked out of Williams' office. The two drones assigned to guard Thurgood that had been waiting in the hall followed the two men as they walked past. "When I'm bored at work I'll google myself. Did you know there's fanfiction of all the PR reps at the Collective? It's flattering in the most disturbing way possible. I did not know what pegging was until I started reading some of them but apparently a lot of people think I would enjoy having it done to me."

"I'm sad to say I do, in fact, know pegging is. Some of the officers stationed here get pretty foul mouthed when they're drunk, I've heard too many stories that should have stayed in a small circle of close friends."

"Oh, but those are the best stories! Like this one time, at a charity event, I was in a wedding dress while Roma was dolled up like Abe Lincoln-"

"You're going to have to explain to me why you were in a dress," Williams interrupted.

"You're a general, you should know why. Tactics, man! I needed her to watch my back. Besides, those gabardine dresses are surprisingly comfy, it's not often I get an excuse to wear one."

"I'm not sure what's more surprising, that you used the word 'gabardine' or that you've worn such a dress more than once. I really just have one question: why?"

"You can't open the book of my life and jump in the middle. Much like nadion particles, fourth-dimensional math, hyperspace, and women, I'm a riddle wrapped in mystery inside of a Twinkie."

"What the hell is a Twinkie?"

"Awesome snack food from when I was younger. I used to get the suckers deep fried at carnivals. Man, I can feel my arteries starting to clog just thinking about it," Thurgood said with a big smile on his face as he started rubbing his belly. "Man, there was some good eating at those carnivals. Besides twinkies there was deep fried Oreos, red velvet funnel cake, big ass boardwalk french fries smothered in Old Bay along with freshly squeezed lemonade. Yummy."

The two men (plus the drones, but they didn't count because well, drones) walked down the hallway in silence. Williams was actually glad Thurgood was distracted by thoughts of food, it gave him a reprieve from the chatterbox. Just as Thurgood seemed about to open his mouth to say something a soldier came running up to the group allowing Williams to focus on him instead of Thurgood. He noticed the man pull back slightly as he came to a stop. After a moment's thought, Williams decided he didn't blame him. The soldier had just approached a frustrated looking General, two drones decked out in full combat cybernetics, and an old man with a stupid grin on his face dressed like a tourist visiting Disney World, they were not a normal looking group of people.

"Uh, General Williams, sir. I'm here to report that all necessary equipment has been loaded, sir. Also, all critical information stored on the remained computers has been wiped. We are ready to move to the Labyrinth at your order sir."

"Good, start up the vehicles and move everything out. Last thing we want is for the aliens to show up while we're on route," Williams said as he turned to Thurgood. "There, see? Everyone is moving out together, so you and your drones go get yourselves in some transportation and I'll see you in the Labyrinth."

"Well, what if we are attacked on route like you said?" Thurgood asked. "I think the drones and I should travel with you Johnny."

"Sir," the soldier said, addressing Thurgood. "I've been assigned to guard the general, he is under my protection. If anything happens to him, anything at all, I swear to you, I will get very choked up. Honestly, there could be tears."

"Huh. . .good enough for me, you two have fun then. I expect to see you in the caves at some point," Thurgood said, pointing at Williams for emphasis. And with that the man and his drones walked off down the hallway.

"Thanks for that," Williams said as he turned to examine the soldier more closely. It took a special kind of person to so easily deal with Thurgood like that. "How did you know to do that...?"

"Service Chief Alexander Drzewucki, sir."

"Drew. . .Derez. . .alright Chief," Williams said, giving up on pronouncing the name. "So how did you know how to deal with Thurgood?"

"My parents were one of the first people to permanently move to Klendathu, sir. My father was in charge of the mining operation that the Venture Trading Company set up there so he often had to deal with the Collective and their PR representatives. I grew up hearing stories about Thurgood and the various ways people had for handling him."

"Well, good on you then. Now come on, I get antsy whenever I'm around booby traps so let's hurry up and get out of here."

"Booby traps, sir?"

"This is an important military base that we're abandoning. Of course we booby trapped it, Chief. There should be enough explosives in the basement to turn this place into a crater big enough for a cruiser to land in."

The Service Chief stopped dead in the hallway at that news. "Oh. . .wow. That's serious."

Williams turned to look back at the man. "This is war soldier, what did you expect?"

"I don't rightly know, sir. I just kind of assumed we would hold out until reinforcements arrived and then everything would be back to normal. I didn't realize. . .I just. . ."

"You've never seen actual combat before, have you?"

"No sir, this was my first posting after basic," the Chief nervously admitted.

"Don't worry about it son. You'll adjust to it. . .or get yourself killed. Either way, you won't worry about the fighting."

"That's awfully binary."

"That sounds like a good band name," Williams said to himself with a grin as he turned to continue down the hallway.

"What was that, sir?"

"Nothing important, let's move."


	15. Chapter 15: Touchdown

**Touchdown**

**Jia Siang, Shanxi. March 13, 2157 AD**

Michael Finnegan (Finn to his friends) adjusted his exographic targeting sensor, the damn thing never sat right on his head, and tried to make out what the aliens were doing. And, no surprise, they were doing the exact same thing that they had been doing ever since they landed, unloading cargo. After the alien fleet had arrived over Shanxi General Williams had ordered all military personnel not guarding civilians to scatter, he hadn't wanted people to congregate in great numbers and get taken out by orbital strikes. Turned out to be a wise decision seeing as how the aliens had blasted Baikal, Caspian, and Loch Ness to dust. They had also bombarded the airports and spaceports, but not as thoroughly. Finn had been part of a group soldiers hiding out in a strip mall near the Mao Zedong Spaceport so he, along with three other men, had been ordered by their commanding officer to go investigate. They had actually been forbidden from getting too close in case it was a trap by the aliens to lure people in to look for survivors before shooting again. However, it turned out the aliens had a different plan for the spaceport, they were using it as a base. It made sense when Finn thought about it, they had a building that was heavily reinforced to withstand a crash from spaceship along with plenty of space to land and take off from, as well as plenty of empty rooms designed to hold excess cargo. Finn gave the aliens credit, they were well organized. After their initial landing, they had conducted a room-to-room search of the entire complex (unfortunately, about three dozen civilians had decided the spaceport was a good place to hide out and had been captured though the aliens hadn't harmed them yet) and then set up a pretty secure perimeter and only after all that had the cargo transporters started landing.

"Looks like they are planning on staying for the long haul based on the amount of crap they're unloading," Finn said to his partner, Yon Yonson.

"Yea, I'd like to say that that means they are overconfident and so they will be in for a surprise when we kick their asses but considering how they beat the defense fleet. . ." Yon trailed off, letting the thought hang in the air.

"Tell me about it, hell, I haven't even gotten a chance to take out any officers because I can't tell who's freaking in charge over there. Bastards are almost as efficient as the Borg. Makes me wish I hadn't hauled this heavy-ass gun through the damn swamp," Finn complained. His gun, a TR-116 rifle, was some experimental new slug-thrower developed by the Borg. It synced up with his targeting sensor and could (somehow) shoot through walls. Finn understood the basics of how his targeting sensor could see through walls, measuring wavelengths that passed through objects and whatnot, but he had no idea how the drones managed to figure out a way to get a bullet to pass through walls. The only thing that confused him more than the workings of the gun was how a batch of the things ended up being assigned to his unit. Sure, they were all good snipers, but they were stationed on Shanxi, it wasn't exactly a planet brimming with conflict. Then again, it was the first planet to got invaded by aliens so what did he know.**  
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>"Hey, it was <em>your <em>idea to take the side of the spaceport with all the nature. Schmidty and Jingles only took the north end because you wanted to take this route," Yon retorted.

"I know, I know. I just didn't like the idea of spying on the aliens via a bunch of stores which probably still have civvies hiding inside. This way if we get caught it's just us. Speaking of," Finn pushed a button on his wrist computer and his radio activated. "Schmidty I'm not seeing any change in behavior, how are things on your end?"

Finn and Yon's earpieces crackled to life as John Schmidt's voice came over the line. "Well, they moved all the civvies into an area with bathroom access, so that's a potentially disgusting crisis averted but beyond that I got nothing important. The aliens did finally give up on trying to get any information out of them, guess the language barrier was too much."

"I wonder if our translators work on their speech? I doubt other species have a bunch tech savvy drones sharing thoughts inventing things, we've got to be more advanced than them on something," Finn said.

"Judging from the reactions I saw, I would have to say that the captured civvies have no clue what the aliens were saying. Plus, the only reason our translators work so well isn't just a matter of technology, its also the fact that the Borg have such a huge knowledge base of languages because of how many people they've assimilated," Schmidty answered. "It's not like you or I could hack our earpieces and program in a new language."

"So the Borg need to assimilate one of the aliens before we can understand them. . .you know there has got to be at least one drone somewhere on this planet-"

Finn was interrupted by a new voice coming on the line, Schmidty's partner, Jacob Jingleheimer. "If you ladies don't have any vital information to relay I suggest you shut the hell up before you give away one of our positions. If an alien race has the technology to travel between solar systems I think they've probably figured out how to triangulate radio waves so we should try to keep the jibber-jabbing to a minimum!"

"Right, sorry! Finn out," Finn said as he shut off his radio.

"Jingles sure sounded angry," Yon said.

"Can't really blame him, he's right. There's no guarantee that were safe right now. Just because we're hard to see doesn't mean we're hard to detect. Plus, there's the fact that if we're talking to each other we aren't paying attention to the aliens."

"Well technically, _you're _supposed to to be paying attention to the aliens, _I'm _just supposed to make sure no one comes near us."

"Yon, you're acting like a five year old. I know you prefer to be the sniper but we're supposed to rotate the pos-whoa hold on," Finn said, looking more closely through his targeting sensor.

Finn activated his radio, "Schmidty, I have what appears to be a VIP getting out of the shuttle that just landed. I'm gonna try and take him out unless you or Jingles can think of a reason not to."

"We were only supposed to do reconnaisse but screw it, they gave us these guns for a reason. Fire away, but after he's down run like hell, we don't know if they will be able to figure out where the shot came from," Jingles answered. "We'll hold position and see what their response is."

"Roger that," Finn said as he took careful aim at the target. There was no guarantee that this guy was vital to the war effort but based on how every alien at least turned to acknowledge the guy he had to be an officer of some sort (or maybe he was just really well liked). Regardless, Finn waited till the alien had passed into the building before he pulled the trigger. Hopefully, the guy getting sniped while inside would throw some confusion among the aliens. Finn saw the alien's shields flare up briefly flare up before its head exploded.

"Target's down Yon!" Finn exclaimed as he quickly stuffed his rifle into its carrying case.

"After one shot? What, did he not have personal shielding on or something?" Yon asked as he scanned the surrounding area for any approaching aliens.

"Oh he did, it just didn't do any good," Finn said as he hefted the rifle case onto his back. The two men slipped into the waist deep water of the swamp and began making their way away from the spaceport.

"So either the TR-116 is that good or their shields are that bad," Yon reasoned.

"Probably the former but I hope it's the latter."

**Yushan Mountain Range, Shanxi. March 13, 2157 AD**

Fred shivered in the cold. He was sitting atop one of the buildings of the Pua Aloalo Observatory looking through a pair of binoculars at alien ships landing at New Beijing. Last night when Kevin had tried to watch Revenge of the Radioactive Mutant Space Dwarves the television had instead played an emergency broadcast explaining that Shanxi was going to be invaded by aliens. Neither man had any clue what to do after that so they just locked all the doors in the Observatory and had waited. They didn't have to wait long, no sooner had they sat down that the ground started shaking. Fred and Kevin had gone outside and could see it was the aliens launching orbital strikes on New Beijing. When the bombardment had stopped Kevin had gone back inside but Fred had decided to stay out and observe. Fred wasn't really sure why he had decided to watch. It wasn't like there was anything he could do, hell he couldn't even make out anything vital at this distance, but he still felt he had to sit outside and watch. Oddly enough, one of the first alien ships to come down had landed about halfway between the Observatory and New Beijing. Fred hadn't understood that, it was the only ship to do it, all the others landed in the city. At one point Fred had seen an explosion occur in the area around where the ship landed but no other ships had come to investigate so he wasn't sure what the deal was.

Fred's thoughts were interrupted by a loud cacophony of noises. As he strained to listen Fred realized it was some kind of machine, though it was in terrible condition. He could make out grinding gears, sputtering of steam valves, and a high pitched whine. Right before Fred stood up to go see what the hell Kevin had done he heard a very familiar sound, the sound of a truck horn honking. Fred whipped his head around to look at the road leading up to the Observatory. He saw Mike's truck driving up the hill. The truck looked like hell; its cargo container was simply gone, the cabin's roof was smashed in, smoke was pouring out from under the hood, and all the tires were deflated. Fred had no idea how Mike had managed to drive that truck up the mountain in that condition. Fred hopped up from his seat and ran to the door. On his run through the building he grabbed Kevin and the two quickly ran out the front of the building just as Mike's truck limped its way into the complex.

"Andropov's grainy scotch, what happened?" Kevin asked in shock.

Fred was about to reply when his brain processed what Kevin said. Fred turned to the younger man with a look of disbelief on his face. "Shanxi is being invaded by aliens, Mike shows up in a nearly ruined vehicle, and your first thought is to quote Attack. Of. The. Radio. Active. Mutant. Space. Dwarves?!"

Kevin looked at Fred sheepishly. "Sorry, but I was so hyped to watch the sequel that its all I've been thinking of."

Fred didn't even know what to say so he just shook his head in silence. When Mike's truck finally ground to a halt and the door to the cab opened Mike half-stepped, half-fell out of it. Kevin and Fred rushed forward to check on him. His clothes were torn and dirty, he was covered in cuts, bruises, and blood, the left half of his body was singed from some kind of fire, and he was barely conscious.

"Geez Mike, how did you make the drive up here in this condition? Kevin, grab his feet, we need to get him inside and check his injuries."

**Jia Siang, Shanxi. March 13, 2157 AD**

"You sure Schmidty?" Jingles asked his partner.

"I'm telling man, not one alien has made its way over to where Finn and Yon were hiding when Finn took the shot. Granted, I can't see the entire spaceport from here but I can see the swamp and no one has gone in there," Schmidty answered as he scanned the spaceport.**  
><strong>  
>"What about the hostages? They catch any flack for it?"<p>

Schmidty sighed. "Unfortunately, yea. They all got roughed up when the aliens did a weapons search on them. There was shouting and shoving, nothing too bad though."

"Well, hate to say this but. . .sucks for them. If the aliens can't figure out where the shot came from that is great news for us and if the civvies get blamed for it, that means we aren't being hunted." Jingles felt bad for saying it, but there simply wasn't any way around it. The broadcast signal had told everyone to grab a gun and find somewhere to hide, these people hadn't grabbed guns and had chosen a big, open spaceport to hide in. What did they expect was going to happen?

"That's a little harsh man, its one thing to not rescue hostages but to actively engage in behavior that will endanger them, I dunno, I don't feel comfortable doing that."

"Schmidty," Jingles said as he patted his friend on the back. "I realize that its not the honorable or, hell, even the moral thing to do but you have to realize something: in war victory doesn't need an explanation and defeat doesn't care about excuses. We are trapped on a back-end planet, with no hope of evac, with an alien fleet in orbit that not only destroyed every ship we had in the system but also has not hesitated to blast our buildings into craters. So you tell me, which would you prefer, a beautiful loss or an ugly win?"

Before Schmidty had the chance to answer a voice came over the radio. "This is Yon, Schmidty, Jingles, you there?"

"Jingles here, how are you and Finn doing Yon?"

"Safely made it back to base camp, didn't see any aliens following us, Lieutenant wants to know what happened at Mao after we high tailed it outta there."

"You can tell him that there was a lot of running around looking for you guys, but they never figured out where the shot came from. They interrogated the civvies and did a fair amount of climbing through the hard-to-reach places looking but didn't turn up anything. I'm guessing they don't have any technology similar to the TR-116," Schmidty said.

There was a pause as Yon relayed the information to their Lieutenant. "Lieutenant says you are no longer on reconnaisse and that you can take out as many aliens as you want. Finn and I are getting sent back out to help, make sure to keep mobile, last thing we want is the aliens getting their hands on our rifles because we stayed in one spot too long."

"Roger that, picking my targets now," Schmidty said. "Jingles, since they don't seem to have officers down that I'm gonna take out anyone by themselves first. Once they figure out people are dropping let's move to a new location."

"Sound like a plan," Jingles said. He started re-evaluating their surroundings. Whereas before he had only been on the lookout for approaching enemies, now Jingles also had to plot out possible courses to new sniper perches. The two men were at the entrance of an alley between some kind of flower shop and a bakery. This entire street was on a high rise overlooking the Mao spaceport that was primarily populated by tourist trap type businesses. Glancing down the road, Jingles saw an electronics store with a big neon sign atop its roof. Could lay underneath the sign for some more shots. There was probably a way up there in the back of the building and if not, they could always just parkour it.

As Jingles looked down the alley he heard the soft bang of Schmidty firing a shot. Jingles was impressed with how little sound the rifle made, the only guns he had ever heard quieter than that were nadion particle beam phasers though with their long, bright, easily traceable beams those guns weren't really conducive to guerrilla tactics. When it came to hit-and-run sniping, there wasn't a gun better suited for the task than the TR-116 with a synced exographic targeting sensor, provided you were strong enough to carry the gun of course. Weight usually tended to be a problem with first generation Borg weapons, they were either so heavy they gave you a hernia or so light you forgot you were holding them.

Jingles still remembered Schmidty's surprise when the kid had first been assigned to Shanxi and found out that Jingles collected Borg weapons as a hobby.

"Yea, I've got at least one of every kind of gun the Collective sold after 2084," Jingles had explained. "Everything from electrolasers to vortex gas guns. I even got a photon torpedo mounted above the fireplace."

"There is no possible way it's legal for anyone to own a photon torpedo, they have antimatter warheads for crying out loud!" Schmidty had exclaimed.

"On Alliance planets, which I'm guessing you grew up on, you're right, but my house is on Ego so it ain't a problem."

"Why would the Borg even sell you a photon torpedo?"

"For the same reason they sold me the Plutonium Gun, because I had the money to pay for it," Jingles had explained.

"You own a Desolator?" Jingles had been impressed that Schmidty had known what the Plutonium Gun was. Most people only knew the gun by the moniker given to it by the media, the Desolator, which, to be fair, wasn't an inaccurate nickname. The gun transmitted magnetic fields through plutonium isotopes stored in the gun, creating a concentrated stream of radioactive ionic waves that desolated anything organic in its path. The gun had been outlawed by the System Alliance and had actually prompted a 'radioactive' weapons banning by the Geneva Conventions after a some nutjob took one to a school killed over one hundred people, the worst school shooting in human history.**  
><strong>  
>"Theoretically I do. It's one of the few guns I own that I've never actually used so they could have just sold me a very expensive inoperable replica."<p>

"I just cannot fathom why the Borg would sell that gun to anyone. . .hell, even after the Aurillac School Massacre, that gun still isn't as bad a photon torpedo, those things can destroy a city when they go off. Why would anyone other than the military need one of those?" Jingles had never seen a person so depressed, confused, and simultaneously shocked as Schmidty had been when asking that question.

"You know, when it was being delivered to my house my neighbors came over to see what I was getting and when they found out they asked that same question. Before I had a chance to answer one of the drones did, any idea what they said?"

"I honestly have no idea," Schmidty had said.

"The drones said 'A government, and by extension, a military, is nothing more than a group of citizens. Therefore, to make something legal for the government but illegal for the citizens is both tyrannical and illogical.' Now you can say what you want about the Borg, how they are uncaring, evil husks that don't understand humanity, but you gotta understand something: if you don't bother them, they won't bother you. I live on Ego despite being an Alliance citizen, but I get treated the same way as citizens of the Collective who get treated the exact same as a freaking Alliance Fleet Admiral. Why do you think so many of the high and mighty types don't ever visit planets under the Collective's banner? It's because they know they won't get special treatment."

Jingles shook his head, now was not the time to be reminiscing. Besides, Schmidty was no longer the wet-behind-the-ears, naive rookie that he had been when he first got assigned to the unit. He was a competent soldier that had a better grasp of how the universe worked. Granted, he was still a kid to Jingles, Finn or Yon probably would have made for a better partner but both loved to argue about anything they could whereas Schmidty was at least willing to shut up and learn.

"They just noticed when I took out my fifth guy, time to move Jingles!" Schmidty said as he shoved the TR-116 into its carrying case and swung it over his shoulder.

**Yushan Mountain Range, Shanxi. March 14, 2157 AD**

Michael awoke with a start, quickly taking note of his surroundings. He was inside a building that he hoped was the Observatory. The room he was in was small, the only furniture was a dresser and the bed he was laying in. Michael looked down at his body, he was only in a pair of underwear though it was hard to tell because he was wrapped in so many bandages he may have well have been a mummy. As he tried to sit up the door to the room opened and Kevin walked in.

"Mike, you're awake! I was just on a bathroom break, man figures you would wake up when no one was in the room. How are you feeling?"

"Been better. . .been worse. Were my injuries really so bad that you guys felt the need to cocoon me in gauze?" Michael said as he gestured at himself.

"I have no idea," Kevin said, raising his hands up defensively. "Fred was the one that did everything, I just handed him the stuff he told me to. Speaking of Fred, lemme go get him so you can explain what happened."

As Kevin left the room Michael tried to take better stock of his injuries. Michael stretched out his limbs and decided that he could feel all of his extremities and that their movement didn't seem hampered. All things considered, Michael was actually doing pretty good considering how much his body had been screaming at him on the drive up the mountain.

"Mike, how are you feeling? Hope my makeshift medicinal skills didn't make anything worse?" Fred said as he entered the room, followed by Kevin.

"I actually feel pretty good, though I have to ask, why am I covered in bandages? Shouldn't Medi-gel have worked fine for this?"

Fred snorted. "Yea right, like our bosses would send us Medi-gel. We make do with the knock-off brand that only comes in cloth form. Still, it gets the job done, once I had removed all the shrapnel from you that is. You're damn lucky I used to own a farm and was too cheap to hire surgeons for the animals otherwise you'd be SOL right now."

"Mike, does that mean you really were attacked by the aliens? What happened exactly?" Kevin asked.

"After the radio announcement about the invasion I decided to head to my house, but en route, I found myself in an ambush situation. Seems the bastards had seen me from above and so set up on the road ahead. Must have been a couple dozen of the things! They were all armed and had their weapons pointed at my truck. One of them shouted something at me and gestured that he wanted me to come out." Michael chuckled. "Well, I knew I had that cannon installed under the truck cab for a reason so that took out the first group but the damn thing only points forward and there were more of them on the sides that I hadn't seen and they started shooting. I returned fire with the guns I keep in the passenger seat but didn't have a good angle. I knew I wasn't getting out of there alive and decided I would take out as many of them as I could. Sheer luck I saw their transport shuttle through the trees, so I just popped it into six-wheel and drove straight at it. Now either their shuttles don't have mass effect shields or they turned it off when they landed because I didn't see so much as a damn flicker while I shooting at it. I must have made a lucky shot with the cannon because as I was driving towards it the whole thing exploded! That's what did the majority of the damage to my truck. Blew me all the way back onto the road, somehow I landed upright though my trailer ripped off in midair, don't know where it landed. At that point I'm just in shock that I ain't dead so I slam on the gas and just start driving. Aliens didn't even shoot at me while I left and I know I didn't kill them all."

Kevin stared at Michael in awe for several seconds before speaking. "I knew you kept several guns in the cab but you had a cannon mounted under your truck? Damn Mike, you really put a whole new shine on the word 'overkill.' Course, it did just save your life so maybe I shouldn't judge. . ."

Michael shrugged. "Some people think I'm paranoid, over-prepared, maybe even a little crazy. . .but they never met any alien life forms did they?"

"Wait, I just realized something," Fred said, his voice suddenly full of urgency. "Mike, you said you were sure you didn't kill all the aliens right?"

"Yea, only about a dozen or so but they were flanking me when I was first stopped so they were well outside of the blast radius when the shuttle detonated."

"Well, what do you think there next plan of action is? There is only the one road from here to the New Beijing suburbs. So either they radioed for a pick up back to their fleet, decided to meet up with their fellows in New Beijing, or are on their way here," Fred reasoned.

"Whichever it is, I've been laying in bed long enough," Michael said as he swung his feet off the bed. "Come on, we need to get all the weapons out of my truck since there is no way I'm going to be able to make the trip home in that thing. What sort of defenses does this place have anyway?"

"Kevin and I each have hand-held phasers," Fred said as Michael stood up. "Though I don't know if their weapon settings even work. We've only ever used the tool functions."

"That's what you get for using Borg tech instead of good ole human ingenuity."

Michael saw Fred roll his eyes at that statement. While Michael and Fred generally agreed on pretty much everything the Borg were the one point of contention in their friendship. Michael didn't understand how lackadaisical Fred was about the drones. Fred didn't deny that the Borg were mindless slaves to their own collective consciousness that were utterly lacking in morals, but he didn't believe that they were out to take over humanity either. Fred's opinion of the Borg could best be described as 'meh' which boggled Michael to no end.

"Seeing as how the phasers have more uses than a Swiss Army Knife with a blowtorch attachment, I think human ingenuity can go screw itself," Kevin said, throwing in his two cents.

As Michael opened his mouth to retort Fred cut in, "Look Mike, you don't have to use the Borg tech. Let's just gather all possible weapons and then we can analyze the situation and see what the best course of action is."

"Fine," Michael agreed. "But I need some pants first."


	16. Chapter 16: Regroup, Replan, Recycle

**Regroup, Replan, Recycle**

**Yushan Mountain Range, Shanxi. March 14, 2157 AD**

When they had first met, Kevin thought Michael was an odd character but generally an alright guy. Sure, Michael thought every government agency was out to get him and refused to use the vast majority of Borg tech but so long as you didn't set him off he was easy to get along with. Kevin had known that Michael kept a lot of weapons in his truck, the man was convinced that the System Alliance (or the Borg, or possibly both) would invade Shanxi and institute martial law just because they felt like it and Michael wanted to be able to fight back. That being said, Kevin hadn't realized just how many weapons Michael had.**  
><strong>

"Here Kevin, looks like my Uzi is still in good condition," Michael said from his location in the cab of his truck.

Kevin reached up to the truck and grabbed the gun and put it in the 'keep' pile of weapons which was, unfortunately, much smaller than the 'useless' pile of weapons. In fact, calling the first one a pile was being generous, other than the Uzi there was a wicked looking knife and police-style riot shotgun and that was it.

"AH HA! I was wondering where this had gotten to," Michael said triumphantly as he stuck his head and arm out of the rear window (OK the rear hole, the window was gone) of the cab. He waved his arm around to show whatever it was he had found. "I knew I had some C4 in here somewhere. Good thing the shuttle explosion didn't trigger it or I wouldn't be here talking to you."

"C4?" Kevin asked incredulously. "I understand the guns but why do you have C4 in your truck?"**  
><strong>

Michael shrugged, which wasn't easy to do with since most of his body was still in the truck. "C4 is a lot like a condom, it's better to have and not need it than need it and not have it."

"I. . I suppose I can see the logic in that," Kevin said. "So anything else worthwhile in there?"

"Most of my ammunition mod blocks look fine," Michael said as he disappeared back into the cab. "There's the rest of the C4. . .and the detonator! Certainly need that if I want to use the C4. Looks like the only other thing worthwhile in here is the food rations."

"My knowledge of ammo mods comes from video games and movies so you're gonna have to explain how they actually work to me at some point. I'll start grabbing stuff and take it into the Observatory."

"I was really hoping more stuff would have survived the explosion," Michael sighed. "Well come on in, the food and ammunition is easy enough to identity."

"Considering how much damage this thing took," Kevin said as he climbed up into the cab. "I'm impressed you're even alive, let alone that two of your guns are still functional." Kevin slid across the driver seat and half-walked half-crawled into the back section of the cab where Michael was.

"That's the food," Michael gestured at a stack of tightly wrapped boxes as he sorted through a giant box of something or other. "As for the ammo blocks, they're the little cubes you see everywhere."

Kevin glanced down and, sure enough, saw at least a dozen inch-sized cubes on the floor. Based on what Kevin had learned from watching movies he figured each block was a different type of ammunition, be it phasic, tungsten, incendiary, or whatever. Whether that was actually true or not, Kevin had no idea, but he hoped it was the case, it would make learning how to use a real weapon at least a little bit easier if his 'fake' knowledge had some basis in fact. Kevin grabbed some of the ammo blocks and placed them atop the food stack before grabbing the whole pile and slowly making his way out of the truck.

As he passed by the two piles of weapons outside Kevin paused and looked more closely at the Uzi, he had thought something was odd about it when Michael had handed it to him but hadn't given it much thought. Kevin put down his armful of food and ammo to look at the gun, it was clearly an older model, but even so, something was still odd. As Kevin examined the Uzi and compared it to the shotgun he finally realized what it was.

"Yo Michael!"

"What?"

"I get that you own a lot of guns, I get that some of the guns predate the discovery of mass effect. What I don't get is why, out of all the guns that you carry with you, is the sub-machine gun, i.e. the gun that uses a lot of ammo, the one without eezo while the heavy duty shotgun uses ammo blocks?"

"That's just bad luck. I had several pre and post discovery weapons in the truck. Don't want to put too much reliance on element zero in case someone finds a way to render it inert or something during a fight."

"I hope that means you have ammo for your Uzi somewhere in the truck because otherwise you only have one working gun."

"Why do you think I'm still in here? I'm sorting through all the ammunition that got knocked loose when I blew up the shuttle looking for any 9 millimeters, course loose rounds don't do me any good if I don't have any undamaged clips to put them in. . ." Michael's voice trailed off as he muttered to himself.

Kevin reached down and grabbed the stack of food and ammo and continued on his way into one of the side buildings of the Observatory that he and Fred used as living quarters. As he opened the door, Kevin saw Fred seated on the lone couch reading something on his wrist computer.

"Whatcha reading Fred?" Kevin asked as he placed his burden down in the corner.

"The instruction manual for our phasers. Did you know if you cranked them up high enough they could disintegrate a target?"

"Really?" Kevin asked in surprise. "Our dinky little one-handed phasers can do that much damage?"

"It burns through their power supply but if we really needed to blast our way through something, we could do it," Fred said without looking away from his computer. "Our's are primarily sold for their uses as tools so they are designed for a lot of low power usage, shooting to kill is possible but we will need to conserve our shots if we get in a firefight."

"So if something happens to Michael we aren't completely helpless, that's something I suppose. Though honestly, what are the chances that the aliens are going to come here. We're out in the middle of nowhere, what gain could they possibly have for attacking us?"

Fred shrugged and finally looked up as Kevin sat down in a chair next to the couch. "We don't even know why they attacked us in the first place, let alone what their strategy is for taking over the planet. Maybe their religion defines us as heathens in need of eradication, maybe they are like locusts and travel from planet to planet draining them of resources, maybe they are parasites looking for host bodies to inhabit to prolong their own lives, or maybe they are just trigger happy cops that think we broke some interstellar law. My point being that we don't have enough information to know anything about them so we can't make assumptions on what they might do or not do."

Kevin sighed and leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling. "I can't even figure out why anyone would build a planet based observatory so I don't really expect to understand why aliens are invading. I just needed to complain a bit and get that off my chest. This isn't an everyday occurrence after all, how are we supposed to deal with this?"

Fred smirked as he looked at Kevin. "We're being invaded by aliens and you can't help but wonder about the observatory. I was wondering when it would dawn on you."

Kevin's brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Kevin, explain to me why you don't understand why anyone would build a planet based observatory."

Kevin finally leaned forward in the chair to get a clear look at Fred, he wasn't sure where Fred was going with all this but he wanted to be able to watch his face for any changes in expression. "Because it's so limiting. We have spaceships that can travel between solar systems, an observatory is stuck on a planet with a limited field of vision. Plus there's the additional problem of interference due to weather and such. Now I understand there's an issue of cost but if you've got the money to build a big ass observatory you've got the money to buy a spaceship and strap a camera to its hull."

Fred's smirked turned into a full grin. "So if this observatory is a waste of time and money when it comes to looking at stars, why was it built?"

"Because. . .it's. . .hiding something?" Kevin asked, having no idea what it was Fred was hinting at.

"Bingo. The Observatory is hiding something." Kevin tried to hide his shock at having guessed correctly. "Now, who do you know that has enough money to build this entire complex just to hide something?"

"Well, wasn't this place set up by the University of Hawai'i back on Earth?"

"That would be the cover, one they put a lot of effort into. The telescopes actually do collect data and send it back to Earth but no, that wasn't who funded this place."

"It would have to be some big organization, only they would have enough money," Kevin reasoned. "A corporation or a college or maybe a government."

"Or maybe something that qualifies as all three. . ." Fred trailed off, letting the thought hang in the air.

"The Borg?" As soon as the words left his mouth Kevin quickly glanced at the door to make sure Michael wasn't coming in. "The Borg paid for this place to be built?" When Fred nodded all Kevin could say was, "Why?"

"The Borg wanted something called a vinculum stationed here. I'm told they have one on every populated planet, not sure what they do though."

"The Borg spent millions of dollars to construct an obsolete observatory, as well as go to all the trouble to avoid having themselves connected with it, just to hide some device here? What makes this vinculum so important that they would go through all that?"

"Like I said, I don't know what it does nor do I know why they decided to store it here," Fred said with a dismissive wave of his hand "I just know I was hired is to perform daily checks on it and fix it should anything go wrong. Not really sure why since it's covered in nanites that can do a way better job fixing it than I ever could but hey, I'm just an individual, not a drone."

"Why wasn't I ever told any of this?" Kevin angrily asked.

"Having you in the dark about why we're here helps support the cover story that we are two nobodies that were hired to keep an automated system running. You got paid to fix a bunch of legitimate star observing equipment. You genuinely didn't know the purpose behind the Observatory so you didn't have to lie about what you did. When the fellow working for the Borg hired me he made a comment along the lines of 'the best fabrications are altered truths rather than outright lies' but I think he was slightly off the mark. See, in your case the fabrication actually was true. It wouldn't have matter who questioned you or how, because as far as you knew, you were just a gear monkey."

"Yea well, now I feel like a patsy," Kevin said, rather depressed at Fred's revelation of why they were here.

"Aw hell Kevin, don't take it personally. It was need-to-know information and you didn't need to know, heck, you still don't. Now that I think about it, I'm probably violating my contract by telling you this." Fred paused for a moment. "Then again I could probably argue that you figured some of it out on your own so I had to tell you in order to maintain secrecy, pretty sure that was one of the provisions under which I was allowed to tell you about everything."

"Wait, if you aren't even sure that you're allowed to be telling me all this, why are you?"

"Because I don't expect us to survive all this and I want to die with a clear conscience."

"Oh, well that's. . .nice of you, I think," Kevin said. "You really don't think anyone is going to come rescue us?"

"Are you kidding, who would come? The Borg? There's just you, me, and the vinculum here, hardly worth the justification of sending ships to repel the invasion. The Borg don't care about the same things we care about which is fine if you're an employee or customer of theirs, not so much if you're depending on them to save your life."

"What about the Systems Alliance? Wasn't this sort of thing the whole reason they were created?" Kevin asked, gesturing with his arms for emphasis.

"First of all, they're a governmental agency so don't expect them to do anything in a timely or efficient manner," Fred said with a shake of his finger. "Second, who knows why they were really created. Supposedly it was because the United Nations was too poorly organized to do anything but I've heard everything from countries were tired of how much power the United States had to people wanted a military power that could stand up to the Borg. Conspiracy theorists have thought up all sorts of explanations, doesn't mean they're wrong mind you, just that they have no factual basis."

"So you're saying it's hopeless?"

"No, not at all. I fully expect both the System Alliance and the Borg to show up and drive out the aliens. I just don't expect to be alive when they finally get around to it."

"You weren't this depressing yesterday," Kevin pointed out.

"As I was reading up on what our phasers can do I started realizing just how outclassed we are. Michael is crazy-prepared and he only barely survived one encounter with the aliens, what hope do you and I have?"

Before Kevin could respond the door opened and Michael walked in, arms loaded with stuff. "Whelp, I managed to salvage a grand total of three useable clips for my Uzi. Guess I'm sticking with the shotgun as my primary weapon in a firefight."

"An Uzi and a shotgun? Those were the only guns you were able to save?" Fred asked.

"Afraid so," Michael said, setting his gear on a nearby table. "Shrapnel from the explosion damaged just about everything. Don't quite know how it managed to do some much damage to the weapons behind me without killing me but I'm not the sort to question that much good luck."

"Now that we've got everything that could be used to defend ourselves. . .what do we do?" Kevin asked, looking back and forth between Michael and Fred, figuring one of them had to have an answer.

"We wait," Michael said firmly. "I moved my truck so that it's blocking the road up here so unless the aliens decide to scale the mountain, we'll know when they come up."

"What?" Kevin scratched his head in confusion. "What does your truck have to do with letting us know when the aliens show up? Isn't it just an obstacle they will have to climb over?"

"You're right, they will have to climb over it and since I rigged it with some of the C4 I had, we'll know when they make the attempt."

"That's actually a good idea," Kevin mused. "This way we won't have to constantly have someone on the lookout."

"We should still do that anyway," Michael argued. "There isn't any guarantee that they will take the road up, and even if they do, there's no guarantee that they will trip the trap. Besides, it's not like we have much else to do up here besides watch and wait."

**Jia Siang, Shanxi. March 14, 2157 AD**

Finn was shocked at how long it had taken the aliens to figure out that the shots were coming from outside of the spaceport. Granted, if someone takes a bullet to the head while indoors your first thought isn't going to be 'it came from a magic gun that can shoot through walls' but still, it should have occured them sooner than it did. Jingles and Schmidty had taken out two dozen of the aliens before they had gotten their act together and sent out search parties looking for the two men. By that time, Finn and Yon had gotten back into position and were able set up a crossfire that prevented the aliens from getting to JIngles and Schmidty's location. Sadly, the four snipers became victims of their own successes. Whereas other landing sites around the planet had encountered heavy resistance upon their initial landing, the Mao Zedong Spaceport had been taken without resistance so the aliens hadn't done much beyond securing the perimeter. Once they realized there were enemies in the surrounding area they brought in their big guns. Small, single person gunships now patrolled the air and tanks hovered through the streets. Even worse, Finn's fears about the civvies had been right. The aliens did eventually figure out that Jingles and Schmidty were hiding somewhere amidst the stores to the north of the spaceport. Rather than send in foot soldiers to get shot up, the aliens had sent in one of their tanks to demolish all the buildings. Jingles and Schmidty had managed to make it out fine, a lot of the civvies had not.

At the moment, Finn and Yon were on the second highest floor of the parking garage (didn't want to stay on the highest floor and get seen by passing gunships) next to the strip mall where their platoon was hiding out. After the aliens had arrived in force their Lieutenant had ordered them to pull back, they needed to rethink their strategy to avoid high civilian casualties. While there had been a meeting when they had returned to brainstorm no one had any good ideas so they were just sitting there waiting. After getting a (surprisingly decent) nights rest, Finn and Yon had been sent out on guard duty.

"You know what the worst part of this whole alien invasion thing is?" Yon suddenly spoke up.**  
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"No idea," Finn said as he looked down one of the nearby streets. He had thought he saw someone moving down there.

"I never got a second date with Tara."

"Seriously? People were killed and you're worrying about not getting another date?" Finn asked, only half paying attention.

"Finn, man, you don't understand. Tara does this thing with a lawnchair, six milk bottles and a tuning fork that you wouldn't believe."

Finn grimaced. "Ugh, gross. I don't want to think about you and a woman doing. . .whatever it is you do with that stuff. I did not need to hear about your sex life, heck before now I didn't even think you had sex. Ignorance is bliss man, why'd you have to go and ruin that for me?"

"Ignorance may be bliss but knowledge is power."

"That doesn't mean I want to think about you naked, you're not exactly good looking Yon."

"You shouldn't judge a book by its cover."

"Yea well, clothes make the man, so keep yours on." Finn shuddered. "I'm gonna need to bleach my brain to get that image out of my head."

"You ain't exactly a looker yourself."

"Which is why I don't talk about my sex life," Finn explained.**  
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"Well that and there's only so many ways you can talk about your right hand."

Finn couldn't help it, he grinned. "Alright that was a good one. But let's be serious for a second, I keep thinking I see movement. Come over here and tell me if I'm imagining it or not."

Yon hefted up the duo's rifle and walked over to where Finn was standing. Finn was silent as Yon rested the gun on the wall and began scanning the area.

"I'm not seeing anything Finn, where'd you see movement?"

"In front of the boarded up computer repair shop."

"Hmmm," Yon muttered. He reached up and pressed a button on the side of his targeting sensor. He muttered some more and pressed another button before suddening pulling back in surprise. "Whoa!"

"What is it? What do you see?"

"I see an alien," Yon explained. "I was looking right at him and didn't see him until I switched to infrared."

"You're kidding, there is an invisible alien down there? How the hell is that possible?"

"No idea. I thought this sort of thing was only possible in science fiction stories."**  
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"Think it's a technology he's using or do you think the aliens can do it naturally?" Finn asked.

"Ppfffft, gotta be technology," Yon answered. "He's holding a gun, there's no way his body could hide that."

"So what is he doing anyway?"

"From the looks of things, scouting. Which makes sense, he's by himself and invisible far away from his base. Think I should take him out?"**  
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"On the one hand he's an alien invader so, of course, you should kill him," Finn reasoned. "On the other hand, if he doesn't report back his superiors will probably have a good idea where we're hiding. Considering how well organized they have been I seriously doubt he's just out wandering, he was probably given specific places to check out."

"Yea, you're probably right." Yon activated his radio. "Lieutenant, we have an enemy scout approaching. I can take him out but it will give away our position and we'll have to move before more of them show up. Orders?"

"Take him out if it looks like he figured out we're here, otherwise leave him be. If he reports back that there is no one here that can only help us," the Lieutenant said.

"Roger that," Yon said and carefully took aim at the alien.

"Wonder if we should try to recover the body," Finn said after several minutes of silence.

"Who's body?" Yon asked.

"The alien's body, assuming you kill him. I bet there are quite a couple companies out there that would pay through the nose to get ahold of technology that not even the Borg have."**  
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"Selling an alien's body and technology to the highest bidder. Sounds awfully mercenary of you Finn. I thought you abandoned grave robbing as a possible career path in high school."

"Har de har har har," Finn deadpanned. "Any guilt I felt about selling a corpse could be easily washed away in a money bath. Besides, I'm not saying we could actually pull it off. Where would we store the body and how would we preserve it?"

"And how would we keep it for ourselves?"

"Exactly, I was just wondering out loud, not actually making a suggestion."

**College Park, Earth. March 15, 2157 AD**

Roma walked through the hallways of the University of Maryland trying to remember the directions the lady at the front desk at given her. Roma was here to talk to an economics professor that did occasional projects with the Collective. It was an odd change from how the Collective used to work, Roma reflected. Back when she had first started working for the drones, if they wanted to research something whatever drones were currently free would start doing so. But as time went on the drones began having problems developing new technology, thinking up new ideas. Just advancing really seemed to be a problem for them, the drones were stagnating. Jeff had theorized that it was the result of having so many people on the neural network for so long, they were so used to each other that they had lost their drive to improve. What was that quote Jeff had used? "If necessity is the mother of invention, what will drive our ingenuity once all of our needs have been fulfilled?" Something along those lines. Roma suspected that might be partially why the drones had scaled back their assimilation efforts around that time. They had realized they needed individuals, if the entire human race was assimilated the Collective would ultimately suffer for it because drones didn't have the desires that forced innovation. To correct for that problem, drones almost always brought in at least one, usually more, individuals for whatever project or product they decided to work on.**  
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Roma turned a corner and looked at the various doors with names on them, this looked like a wing of offices for the professors so she was probably in the right spot. She walked down the hall looking at the names on the doors. Jane Tinbergen. Jonathan Keynes. Benedict Graham. Milton Freedler. Ah here we go, Adamo Fabbro. As Roma stood before the door she heard two voices speaking.

". . .it's a dog-eat-dog world is what I'm saying."

"You know, it's really a shame when people who don't understand science use scientific metaphors. You call capitalism a dog-eat-dog world but dogs don't even eat each other in nature, let alone the free market. Capitalism relies on win-win negotiations. That is a fundamental truth, if two people engage in voluntary trade it is because they expect to better off at the end of that trade. That is not the case with a lion chasing a gazelle, that is win-lose. Darwinism doesn't apply to the free market."**  
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"What you're talking about is between a business and its consumers. I'm referring to competition between businesses, plus you're assuming that everyone will behave themselves without any government oversight."

Roma had a feeling this conversation could go on for a long time if she let it, time to interrupt. She knocked on the door.

"Yes? Please, come in."

Roma stepped into the office, which was a lot smaller than she had been expecting. All four walls were hidden by bookcases, none of which had empty space on their shelves. In the middle of the room was a desk with a (surprisingly new looking) computer on it. The man behind the desk didn't look that old in the face but he had long white hair which was pulled in a ponytail and was wearing a rather thick coat which made him appear older. The man sitting closer to Roma was heavy seat with an impressive beard and mustache that covered the majority if his face. Roma noticed the overweight man's eyebrows shot up when he saw her, whether it was because he recognized who she was or was simply taken aback by her good looks, she wasn't sure.

"Well Adamo, we can continue this debate at lunch. How's Italian sound?" The big man said as he stood up from his seat.

"Please Carl, you Americans can't make decent pasta to save your life. Let's get sushi."

"Works for me, see you then."

Roma closed the door after the man had left and then sat down in the available chair. "Dr. Fabbro, I presume?"

"In the flesh, what can I do for you my dear? Come to discuss your grades I take it?"

Roma smiled. "I wasn't aware I looked that young so thank you for that. No, I'm not a student. My name is Roma Gupta, I'm the one the Collective said would be stopping by."

Dr. Fabbro settled back in his chair before speaking, "Usually when you guys hire me it's via dronel. What sort of project would prompt them to send an actual person?"

"Oh, I'm not actually here about a new job, I want to discuss one you already did for us, the Lotito Study."

"Oh yea that one. Had to be all secretive because it was on Shanxi and the people there hate the Collective. What about it?"

"For starters, why did the drones need an economist for a biology study?"

"Well, as you know, some of the bacteria they discovered in one of the ocean trenches was capable of eating metal, including their fancy nanobots. The drones wanted to study the things but they were. . .well I don't want to say 'concerned' because that would be an emotion, but the drones wanted to figure out the impact on Shanxi if the bacteria got out of the water and hit one of the settlements. Now I will give the Collective credit, those drones are freaking geniuses when it comes to macroeconomics, they can predict things to a ridiculous degree. Don't know how they do it but they got a finger on the pulse of every economy out there. That being said, they are terrible at catching the little things. Apparently, they had decided the effects from an outbreak weren't large scale enough to bother devoting their brain power to but at the same time they wanted to know what would happen so I, along with a statistician, a sociologist, and a virologist got brought in to figure out those effects."

"When I asked a drone that question they said you were plotting infection vectors which didn't make any damn sense to me, glad to have that cleared up."

"You work for the Collective and they were being obtuse with you?" Dr. Fabbro asked in surprise.

"Not intentionally," Roma explained. "They just don't really know how to communicate with people off their neural network. They aren't going to spend much time explaining something that makes perfect sense to them no matter how much you ask because they feel it's a waste of resources."

"They think talking is a waste of resources?"

"Time explaining something is time they could have spent working out mathematical computations or something in their heads."

"I guess that makes sense," Dr. Fabrro said while scratching his chin thoughtfully.

"Yea, it does." Roma sighed. "I don't like it, but I understand why they do it."

"So anyway, back to the reason you came here?"

"Right right. Well you see, I read the report you and the others submitted about how the effects on Shanxi would minimal if not nonexistent but circumstances have changed so we're going to need you to take another look, and quickly."

"Why?"

"Your projections never took into account what would happen if all the Borg tech down in the oceans suddenly disappeared, also the situation on Shanxi's surface has been altered."

"Whoa whoa whoa," Dr. Fabbro said. "Stop, time out. Let's back up to the first point. The Borg have _disappeared_?"

"Oh no, nothing like that, at least not yet. It's just if they had to suddenly and quickly evacuate the planet and pull all their stuff with them, which might happen in the very near future, we need to figure out the effects."

"Drones can survive in the vacuum of space, what could possibly force them to pull out like that?" Dr. Fabbro asked.

"Well that brings me to the second thing I mentioned," Roma began, unsure of how to proceed. "About how Shanxi's surface has been altered. . .look you're still under contract forbidding you from speaking about your involvement with this project and Shanxi so what I'm about to reveal to you does not leave this room."

"I know, if I speak of it the nanites that were injected into me with activate and I'll be assimilated." Roma couldn't identify the emotions in Dr. Fabbro's voice when he said that.

"Right, well for what it's worth, this will probably hit the airwaves in a day or so you might not need to keep it a secret for too long. . .the event that is, your involvement is still to be kept under wraps."

"I know, just get on with it," Dr. Fabbro said impatiently.

"Shanxi has been invaded by aliens."

"What?" Dr. Fabbro asked incredulously. "Wait, are you serious? Aliens? Real, live aliens?"

"Afraid so."

"So what's going to happen to all the people that live on Shanxi?" Dr. Fabbro asked after several minutes of silence as he digested the news he was just given.

"Hopefully we can rescue them," Roma said. "The problem is getting everyone motivated to do the rescuing."

"What do you mean?"

"Even though this only happened a few days ago the Collective is already mobilized and ready to go so theoretically we could go and park a fleet over Shanxi."

"But. . ." Dr. Fabbro prodded.

"But the drones have decided that they should not do anything about the aliens unless its alongside the Systems Alliance."

"Well I don't see how that's a problem, surely the Systems Alliance will want to save Shanxi."

"It's a bit more complicated than that."

"How do you figure?"

"The Systems Alliance gets the majority of its funding from two sources, money given to it from countries on Earth, and taxation on supplies sent to colonies. A lot of the colonies make efforts to be self-sufficient so that decreases the amount of tax money the Alliance can bring in so they primarily depend on Earth," Roma explained. "Care to take a guess what country currently donates the most money?"

"I don't have to guess, I know, it's China. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Who were the primary immigrants to Shanxi?" Roma asked patiently.

"Oh. . .yea. Forgot about that."

"It's not like the Chinese government endorses the aliens killing people on Shanxi but they are definitely going to drag their feet about mounting a rescue operation. They'll claim it's expensive, a possible misunderstanding, that we don't have the capability to survive an interstellar war, that the people of Shanxi wouldn't want the help anyway, et cetera et cetera."

"So what's going to happen?"

"After I'm done here I'm off to Washington to talk to several politicians to convince them to put pressure on China, then I'm off to Canada to do the same thing. Another rep is already hitting up countries in Europe."

"That's good to hear."

"Indeed. However, that is not something you need to worry about. You need to focus on finding out any possible changes to the Lotito Study."

"Of course, yea. I'll be glad to help but what about the others? While I'm sure Ron will be glad to help Frank and Max hated the secrecy of the whole thing, can you really convince them to come back?"

"Dr. Fisher volunteered even quicker than you did when I told him the situation. You're correct about Dr. Burnet, we actually had to threaten to activate his nanites if he didn't agree to help. Surprisingly, Dr. Weber didn't mind coming back, guess he found retirement boring."

"Oh," Dr. Fabbro seemed to deflate at Roma's explanation. "Good to see you're ahead of me then."

"Don't take it personally, I met with you last because you were the closest to D.C."

"Right, well I suppose a drone with bit stopping by later with all the specifics?"

"One will come by today after your last class to pick you up. You will be given access to all the information on the trip to the Celestial Dragon."

"Wait today? But I already had dinner plans. . ."

"Cancel them," Roma said firmly. "We need to have your analysis before Shanxi is liberated and seeing as how we don't know how much time you will need or how much time it will take to convince China to stop dragging its feet you need to start today. Be glad I convinced the drones to let me talk you into coming and to wait till the end of the day, they wanted to activate your nanites."

"They were gonna what?!" Dr. Fabbro just about shouted.

"Don't worry about, I talked them out of it," Roma said dismissively. "But enough of this, I have to be going."

"Um, right. OK, well I guess I need to prepare for a leave of absence from the school. . ." Dr. Fabbro said as he began typing on his computer.

"Before I go, would you indulge my curiosity about something?" Roma asked as she stood up from her chair.

"Sure," Dr. Fabbro said, glancing up at Roma. "What do you want to know?"

"When I showed up you were talking to the other fellow about the morality of capitalism. You're a college professor, isn't that a little. . .I don't know, basic? Shouldn't you be debating whether or not the spatial labor arbitrage is good for Earth because colonies having lower production costs due to fewer laws or something?"

Dr. Fabbro smiled. "While I'm sure some professors like discussing that sort of thing, Carl and I prefer a different sort of debate. He teaches philosophy, I teach economics. For each debate one of us picks a subject and a method of debate, moral or monetary. Today was his turn so he decided we would debate about the morality of businesses competing for customers in capitalism. I'm thinking next time I'll make it a debate over whether or not hedonism is financially feasible for a society over the long term."

"Huh, well whatever keeps your mind sharp I guess. Thank you for answering my question," Roma said as she walked to the door. "The drones will be waiting for you as soon as your last class lets out so have everything in order before you start it."

"Hopefully I will. I pray for the people on Shanxi and wish you well in your efforts to save them Ms. Gupta." And with Dr. Fabbro's farwell Roma left his office.

As she walked down the hallway Roma had to shake her head at the situation. Roma genuinely felt bad about delaying the Borg from retaking Shanxi, who knew how many people were dying because of it, but if the Borg went in early and saved the colony that would just upset the higher-ups in the Systems Alliance. The Borg would have made them look inept and incapable of defending their own colonies and since the politicians already didn't like the Collective, Roma didn't want to make the situation worse. It sucked for the people on Shanxi but hey, they wanted to live on the farthest colony from Arcturus that had a minimal Systems Alliance garrison. They wanted to have all that extra freedom, that came at the consequence of the government not stepping in right away.

Still, the drones weren't holding out solely because Roma said so. While the Borg wanted very very badly to move in and assimilate the aliens to learn as much as possible they didn't want to move in too early in the event that more hostile ships were on route to the planet. The Borg wanted Systems Alliance ships alongside their own when they went to Shanxi for, well, for cannon fodder really. The Borg only needed to assimilate one ship and its crew in order to get the necessary information about the aliens capabilities. Actually, that wasn't necessarily true. Maybe the alien society was organized into castes and the warriors were all slaves or something and had no idea why they were fighting or where they were doing it. All the more reason to assimilate them really, the Collective just didn't have enough information. Roma shook her head in annoyance, remembering a conversation she had had with Jeff.

"What good is psychohistory if it couldn't predict something as important as an alien invasion!? You would think out of everything it's gotten correct, this would have come up at some point!"

"You know damn well it doesn't actually predict the future Roma. It just uses gathered mathematical data to extrapolate what is likely to happen. It couldn't predict the invasion because we had no knowledge of the aliens, it's for that exact reason why we have no idea how long the invasion will last or how the retaking will go, we have no data."

"Well, get some data! Tell the drones to assimilate something already! Need I remind you Jeff: ALIENS!"

That had certainly not been one of her finer moments. It had occurred shortly after Bert had told her about the Shanxi situation, she had called up Jeff to ask him what information the Borg had available on the aliens. She had not been happy to hear his answer, "Not much," which had resulted in her explosive reaction. Hell, they couldn't even use pyschohistory to make any assessments on what the Lotito Study would do to Shanxi if there was a breach of containment anymore. The introduction of the aliens to the situation rendered all their predictions moot, especially if a long, drawn out war took place on Shanxi, nothing spreads disease and bacteria like a war.


	17. Chapter 17: Bypassing Protection

**Bypassing Protection**

**New Beijing, Shanxi. March 15, 2157 AD**

"WHERE THE HELL ARE MY GODDAMN HEAVIES?" Second Lieutenant Alexander Romanov shouted behind him while he fired his rifle at the alien infantry. He had to quickly duck down to avoid the return fire.**  
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"They got held up at the hospital sir, aliens had armor support," a man gasped out.

Even though General Williams' broadcast had specifically said to get guns and find cover, a lot of civilians had decided there was safety in numbers and had, very clearly and very openly, occupied a school. Normally, Alexander wouldn't have cared, if they were too stupid to follow orders in a war zone then they got what was coming, but this group consisted of mothers and their children. Not even a complete monster could abandon these women and children to die so Alexander had ordered his men to set up around the school until he could figure out what to do with all these people. Unfortunately, the aliens had decided to start pushing through the city before he came up with a plan so Alexander and his platoon were simply trying to keep the aliens occupied while the civilians escaped out the opposing side of the building. Things were not going well, the platoon of thirty-five people had been whittled down to just fifteen. Alexander thought he caught a break when one of his men managed to radio a nearby squad of soldiers with heavy ordnance and inform them of the situation. Luck was not with them though, the squad passed by a medical center on their way and had to stop and fight off alien tanks it seemed. Alexander was pretty sure that the squad could take out the aliens given time, he just didn't know how much time he and his men had.

Alexander glanced behind him in dismay. Of the fifteen people in the room, two of them were so badly wounded they couldn't even stand up. One of them was on radio duty, the other had passed out from the pain, Alexander was glad to see the man was still breathing at least.

Alexander turned back to look at the aliens that were hiding in the doorways to classrooms further up the hall. Despite the large number of ground troops assaulting the school, most of the damage (and kills) had been done by the two tanks sitting in front of the school. Alexander and his men had been forced further and further into the school as the tanks blew holes in the front walls and the walls behind that, and then the walls behind those wall. The front half of the school had pretty much collapsed in on itself from having so many load bearing walls knocked out. That actually turned out to be a good thing though because the tanks stopped fired. That was when the infantry had moved in to try and dislodge Alexander's platoon. Luckily, the infantry decided to try and fight it out rather than retreat and have the tanks pound the building some more. Alexander prayed that the alien tanks hadn't simply circled around the school, if they had they would have come across the fleeing mothers and children. Based on how much wanton destruction the aliens had caused to the city's infrastructure, Alexander seriously doubted they had any qualms about shooting unarmed civilians.

Alexander's thoughts were interrupted when he heard a feminine voice exclaim, "Finally!"

A soldier that had been behind Alexander ran forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with him, she brought her rifle to bear on the aliens and opened fire. An orange colored beam shot down the hall and the aliens all immediately dove for cover. Alexander grinned. The aliens all had personal shields that protected against kinetic guns, much like all Systems Alliance troops, however, unlike Systems Alliance troops, the aliens lacked any sort of shields that protected against phasers.

The soldier, who Alexander recognized as Corporal Eva Lee, sat down behind the barrier they had erected across the doorway into the cafeteria. It was sheer luck that the fridge in the kitchen was just the right size when turned on its side to make for a good barricade because otherwise they would have had to make due with a bunch of plastic tables.

"Well Corporal, now that you got your rifle working again I think we might actually stand a chance," Alexander said.**  
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"Glad to hear it sir." Lee looked up at him and grinned. "If we make it out of here I want written apologies from everyone that made fun of my loadout.

All Systems Alliance infantry were required to be outfitted with a kinetic weapon and a phaser weapon (which typically came in particle beam or plasma variations). For the most part, soldiers were allowed to pick their weapons from the several options the Systems Alliance had available. Most people choose a handheld particle beam for their phaser weapon because the damn things had so many uses and so they therefore ended up with a kinetic rifle by default. Lee had picked a phaser rifle and so had gotten a kinetic pistol. Because the rifle was designed purely as a weapon it couldn't be set to lower tool level functions so Lee had been given a lot of ribbing from fellow soldiers about how she was only good for two things, shooting and-well most men never finished that sentence. Lee would usually deck them by that point. Once the invasion started and everyone found out that the alien shields didn't stop phaser fire, Lee was the most popular person in the platoon. Her gun plowed through aliens, which made her a bigger target. One of the aliens was either really skilled or really lucky because he got a shot straight down the barrel of Lee's rifle when they had first started pushing their way into the school. Lee had been forced to use her use her pistol while they retreated. It was only once they settled down in the cafeteria that she had finally had the time to try and fix the damage. Alexander wasn't sure how she had fixed the damage in a school cafeteria but he wasn't going to tempt fate by calling attention to it.

Alexander was about to promise to write a book praising Lee's weapon choice if that was what she wanted when the aliens started shooting again.

"We're basically in a stalemate for the time being aren't we?" Lee asked.

"Pretty much. They aren't getting close enough for the phaser pistols to be that effective so they are content to try and pick us off at range but with your rifle we should be able to keep them suppressed until the cavalry arrives."

"Guess I'll do just that then," Lee said as she stood up and fired down the hallway. Alexander heard a strange noise which he had learned was the sound of one of the aliens screaming. They had this strange flangy echo in their voices which had weirded Alexander out to no end when he had first heard it. Lee ducked back down. "Got one of them in the leg, they pulled him into cover before I could finish him off though."

"Just keep them from advancing, I'm gonna check on the injured." Alexander turned around to assess who could take his place at the door. "McKenna! Come'er, you're on guard duty."

"Yes sir!" The only other surviving woman in the platoon said.

Alexander crouch-walked over to Warren Fuller while trying to ignore the loud and creative curses flying from McKenna's mouth as she shot at the aliens. Fuller had blacked out after taking some shrapnel to the face during the initial tank barrage. Alexander winced in sympathy just looking at the man, in addition to the number cuts and slashes on his face there was a six inch sliver of wood jammed into Fuller's left eye. Well, there was six inches exposed, Alexander had no idea how deep in it went. Fuller could be bleeding into his brain and no one would know and there wasn't anything they could do because they had used all their Medi-gel during the retreat through the school and the nurses office was on the other side of the aliens.

"Any changes Price?" Alexander asked the man who had been tasked with keeping an eye on Fuller since the two medics had been killed.

"No, but given his condition I wouldn't say that's a bad thing. His breathing is steady and there isn't a whole lot of external bleeding."

Alexander sighed. "I just wish we hadn't used all our Medi-gel, my leg wound wasn't that bad, I could have made it here without needing to patch it up."

"Stop beating yourself up sir. We had a lot of injuries, the medics didn't have time to check everyone and judge their severity while also running for our lives."

"And that was a rookie mistake!" Alexander said angrily. "We were trained to conserve our resources regardless of the situation, not spend them like we're in a damn video game."

"Maybe you should go check on Howard sir," Price said in a placating manner.

"Yea. Yea, I'll go do that."

Alexander shuffled over to Ackerman. The Corporal nodded at Alexander as he approached. "No word yet on the reinforcements sir, I'll let you know as soon as I hear something different."

"Thanks Ackerman but I'm actually just checking up on your wounds." When the platoon had made it into the cafeteria Ackerman had been the one to suggest using the refrigerator as cover. As he and several men had moved it into place the aliens had opened fire and Ackerman had been caught on the wrong side of the barricade. Lee was able to provide enough covering fire for Ackerman to crawl over the fridge to safety but not before his shields failed and his legs were riddled with bullets.

"I've started clotting so I'm not in any danger of bleeding out. Still can't stand up but I can work the radio just fine sir. I'll admit the pain is still pretty bad," Ackerman grimaced and rubbed his legs. "But I ain't in any danger of passing out."

"So long as you don't keel I'll be a happy man," Alexander said as he patted Ackerman on the shoulder reassuringly.

Ackerman grinned helplessly and shrugged. "You don't have to worry about that happening. Worst case scenario is I buy you guys some time when the aliens make a push while you all retreat."

"We aren't going to leave you behind."

Ackerman frowned. "Sir, if you try to take me with you I'll only slow you down and get someone killed. I'd rather spend my last moments saving someone's life, not causing them to lose it. Besides," Ackerman jerked his head in the direction of Price and Fuller, "someone will have to keep an eye on Warren when Giles leaves."

"Fine, _if _we have to retreat I promise that I won't make anyone carry you out with us." Alexander neglected to mention that someone would undoubtedly volunteer to carry Ackerman out.

"Thank you sir."

Alexander made his way back over to the doorway where McKenna and Lee were currently arguing over weapon choice. Sounded like Lee was advocating using phasers but McKenna preferred her kinetic rifle's higher rate of fire to a phaser pistol despite the fact that kinetic weapons triggered the aliens shields. Alexander decided to interrupt before things got any worse.

"That's enough ladies. At the moment it doesn't matter how many aliens you kill or how you kill them, all the matters is that we keep them away from us. We aren't trying to win, we're trying to survive."

After receiving two 'yes sir's Alexander dismissed McKenna and took her spot by the door.

**Yushan Mountain Range, Shanxi. March 15, 2157 AD**

Michael was in the middle of cleaning his Uzi when there was suddenly a loud boom and the whole building shook. Michael quickly reached forward onto the coffee table to grab the various pieces of his gun as they rolled around from the shockwave. Last thing he needed was the Uzi becoming useless because some vital part rolled off the table and got stuck under the couch or something.**  
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"What the hell was that?" Kevin asked as he ran out of his bedroom into the lounge.

"That was the C4 I left in my truck," Michael said as he quickly began assembling his gun.

Kevin fumbled with his belt for several second before finally pulling his phaser out. "Do you think any aliens survived? How much C4 did you use anyway?"

"I used four pounds. In retrospective that may have been a bit. . .excessive."

Kevin's expression, which could only be described as 'no duh', was the only response Michael got to as the younger man rushed out of the building.

Michael sighed. Kevin had no combat experience, if there were still any aliens alive running outside like that without any kind of plan was liable to get someone killed. Michael stood up as he slapped the clip into his gun and gave it and the table a quick once over to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. Satisfied that the Uzi wouldn't blow up in his hand, Michael grabbed his shotgun off the chair and slid the carrying strap across his shoulder. When he reached the door he slowly made his way outside, constantly scanning his surroundings. There was the small dormitory that he had just walked out off as well as the main building that made up the Observatory directly behind him and in front he could see a plume of smoke rising up. The road sloped downward so Michael couldn't see much from this angle but more and more came into view as he moved forward. Kevin and Fred were standing in front of a crater, just staring at it. After giving one last check of his surroundings, Michael relaxed and walked up beside the pair.

"Damn Michael, you don't do anything half way do ya?" Fred asked.

Glancing down at the crater, Michael could see Fred's point. What had once been his 20,000 pound truck was a blackened, twisted hunk of metal at the bottom of the pit. Even if the aliens had been wearing the equivalent to humanity's best personnel shields they still wouldn't have survived that explosion.

"Only problem I see with using that much C4 is that you just obliterated whatever it was that tripped the trap," Kevin said as he leaned over to look at the wreckage. "For all we know it could have just been one of the wild goats."

"Damnation," Michael said while he rubbed his eyes in frustration. "I completely forgot about them. Not to mention that this vantage point can be seen for miles. Hell, that explosion might have been visible from all the way in New Beijing. If the aliens weren't coming before, they sure will after seeing that."

"Alright, we need to stay calm and examine the situation," Fred said. "What are our options now?"

"We could continue to stay here," Kevin said worryingly. "If we're gonna run into aliens I'd rather it be here then somewhere in the wilderness."

"I think that is a really stupid idea, however it is still an option," Michael admitted.

"So what did you have in mind? It's like a three hour drive to New Beijing, you want us to try and walk that?" Kevin asked angrily.

"Yes. That is exactly what I want," Michael calmly answered. "We don't have to get into the city, that's probably where the aliens are most heavily concentrated anyway. We just need to make it to my bunker which is hidden in some farmland." Michael sighed. "Granted, it's on the far side of the city. . ."

"Are you kidding?" Kevin practically shouted. "You just said the aliens are probably thickest in the city, yet we're gonna have to go through that to get to your bunker? Hell, if we make it to the city outskirts I'm finding the nearest Systems Alliance outpost and joining up with whatever group of soldiers will take me, even if it's bomb defusal, because at this point that sounds safer than what you're suggesting."

Michael was about to respond when he saw movement further down the road and whatever it was it was much too tall to be a goat. "Get down!" He said as he dove into the crater.

Michael heard Kevin utter, "Wha-gaaAAAH," which suggested Fred had grabbed Kevin and shoved him down following Michael's warning. When Michael's slide came to an end at the bottom of the crater he gave a quick glance behind him to confirm that Fred and Kevin were staying down. They were both crouched down just under the lip of the crater, eyes constantly shifting between Michael and whatever was down the road. Confident that they weren't going to do anything stupid, Michael belly crawled up the far side of the crater until he could poke his head out to look down the road.

Michael turned around to look at Kevin and Fred. "We got aliens coming!" Michael said, making sure to keep his voice low.

As Michael turned back around to watch the aliens he heard the two men quietly swearing as they began making their way down the crater. He tried to ignore the two men as he focused on the approach aliens, there was seven of them. The aliens were doing a very professional job advancing; they were leapfrogging, making sure whoever moved forward was being covered by at least three of their fellows while the other three kept a lookout on their sides and behind them. This was the first time Michael had a chance to observe the aliens, when they had ambushed his truck he had been more focused on shooting them than getting a good look. There was also the fact that his memory was a bit fuzzy on the ambush, probably meant he had gotten a concussion from it. Regardless, this a chance to see what he could learn about his enemies. They were bipedal and were completely covered in armor, the material of which didn't look that different from whatever it was Systems Alliance soldiers were equipped with. The aliens were quite angular looking, their forms lacked the soft curves of humans making Michael guess the aliens were most likely not mammals. Did the planet they were from even have mammals? Maybe they were living crystal or something.

"Do we have any strategy or are we just gonna open fire when they get closer?" Fred asked as he crawled up next to Michael.

Michael placed his Uzi on the ground next to him and then slowly and carefully unslung his shotgun from his back. "We're going to shoot them with everything we got," Michael said as he checked the firing method of the shotgun. While Michael made sure he knew how to operate, clean, and repair every gun he owned, he couldn't help but admit to favoritism when it came to guns that made use of element zero. You didn't have to worry about running out of ammo and you didn't have to worry about what type of ammo you wanted to use. For example, Michael had modified his shotgun with a switch that could be flipped depending on if he wanted to fire buckshot rounds or individual, though harder hitting, slugs. Given that Michael was fairly confident in his ability to aim, he wasn't going to waste time with the buckshot function.

"I dunno, my common sense is tingling. The three of us, who are under equipped I might add, against seven of them? For some reason I feel like that's a bad idea," Kevin said from Michael's other side.

Michael measured the distance and angle from the aliens to the crater. "At this point they will see us if we try to leave this hole. Plus we're at the top of a mountain with only one road up it, where exactly are we going to go from here?"

"I don't know," Kevin said nervously. "I just. . .I'm scared alright? I don't want to die."

"Kevin, in a fight for your life fear is a good thing, it means you're paying attention." Michael said.

"What?"

"Nobody in their right mind _wants _to die," Michael explained. "If you're in a fight that could end your life and you aren't scared then you clearly don't understand the situation well enough."

"Oh. . .that makes a lot of sense, thanks Mike."

"Yea yea, just stay quiet. Listen, here's what we're gonna do: Kevin, when give the signal you shoot at whichever alien is closest to us and once he's down just start shooting at the next closest guy and when he's down-well you get the idea. Fred, you're our covering fire. Alternate who you're shooting at, keep them off balance. Got it?"

After receiving two nods Michael brought his shotgun up and took careful aim at the approaching aliens. Out of the corner of his eye Michael saw Fred and Kevin do the same with their phasers. The aliens paused in their advance, Michael didn't know if they had seen the them in the crater (probably not given the angle) but based on the way some of them were moving their heads they appeared to be talking to each other over their radios. They seemed a little distracted, this was the best chance the three men were gonna get.

Michael calmly exhaled as he pulled the trigger on his shotgun. The kickback jammed the gun into his shoulder as the round left the barrel. Michael ignored this as he moved the gun to aim at another alien and fired. Unfortunately, it was at this moment that Michael realized his first shot hadn't killed its target. Its shields had activated and stopped the bullet. The second alien was also still alive. Luckily, there wasn't any cover for the aliens to hide behind so all they were able to do was lie prone on the ground (or crouch down for the aliens towards the back).

Michael was about to curse his bad luck for losing most of his weapons when Fred and Kevin started firing. Kevin's shot missed his target, hitting the ground in front of the lead alien. Fred had targeted the alien farthest back and Michael was amazed to see that the alien's shields did nothing to stop the phaser beam. It wasn't that the alien didn't have shields, Michael could clearly see that they had activated but the beam shot straight through them to hit the alien square in the chest. Of course, since the phaser was a piece of crap Borg weapon it only made the alien fall backwards with slightly singed armor. The alien did scream something, Michael didn't know if it was in pain or a command or what but all the other aliens simultaneously opened fire. However, Fred did the job Michael had assigned him and began shooting back widely, just trying to disrupt the aliens' aim.

Michael ducked down behind the rim of the crater. He realized with the barrage of bullets the aliens were sending up there was no way he was going to be able to aim properly, time to switch the buckshot. Just as Michael was about to pop back up to shoot he noticed Kevin was fiddling with his phaser. Had the thing really broken down already? Michael knew the tech the Borg were willing to sell wasn't that good but damn, this was pathetic.

Michael aimed at the nearest alien and managed to get one shot off before the other aliens forced him back down behind cover. Things were not going well, the three men all lacked any kind of shielding so they couldn't stand up to the aliens in a straight shooting match. Michael glanced over at Fred, who was laying down beneath the lip of the crater. He would occasionally raise his arm up to fire at the aliens but he wouldn't raise himself up high enough to see where he was aiming. Michael turned his attention to Kevin, who was still just pressing buttons on his phaser.

"Well," Michael said. "This clearly isn't working, either of you have a good plan B?"

"There aren't any good plan B's! If they were good, they'd be plan A's!" Fred shouted at Michael. "Not to mention the fact that we're trapped in this hole in the ground because you thought we could outshoot aliens so I would say our plan A wasn't that great to begin with!"

Before Michael could respond Kevin cut in, "I think I can take them."

"What?" Michael and Fred asked in unison.

"I'm pretty sure I can beat them," Kevin answered.

"How?" Fred asked.

"With this." Kevin held up his phaser and wiggled it for emphasis.

Before Michael or Fred or could say anything Kevin moved up past the edge of the crater and fired at the aliens. Admittedly, Michael did not know a lot of about phasers and other Borg guns but he did know what they looked like while firing. Plasma phasers fired small, quick bursts. Particle phasers fired long, but quick, streams which was what Kevin had been shooting. However, this time Kevin was firing a continuous stream that was reminiscent of laser guns in old science fiction movies. Michael hadn't thought particle phasers were capable of that.

Michael watched in surprise as Kevin moved the beam to sweep across the first alien. Michael's surprise turned into shock as the alien screamed and then went limp, seemingly dead. Kevin just moved the beam to the next alien who was already scrambling to get out of the beam's path. Luckily, Fred was not as blown away by this turn of events as Michael because just as the aliens in the rear were preparing to give their buddy covering fire Fred shot one of them in the head. This snapped Michael out of his daze and he took aim with his (suddenly much more inadequate) shotgun and started firing indiscriminately, determined to protect Kevin. The aliens seemed torn between their desire to return fire and their desire to avoid the scorching beam of death so they attempted to do both, which did not work out so well. Between Kevin, Michael, and Fred, they had enough shots flying through the air that the remaining aliens all fell to the ground in less than a minute.

"Damn, that was a hell of a thing," Fred said as he surveyed the battlefield.

"How." Michael breathed in heavily. "The hell." Exhale. "Did." Inhale. "You." Exhale. "Do that?"

"I read the manual yesterday." Kevin paused. "Duh."

Fred slapped his hand against his own face. "How could I forget about that function? I read the manual too. Wow, I feel like a moron."

Michael finally caught his breath. "Your rinky dink tools can do that?" He gestured at the dead aliens. "When you first hit them you just pissed them off, yet with just a few button presses you can slice straight through their armor? If you can do that, what can military grade phasers do?"

Fred shrugged. "Probably the same, the Borg don't make a differentiation when it comes to military or civilian grade equipment. Still, this is a problem. Kevin may have saved our lives but we're down a gun now since we don't have any replacement power batteries for the phasers." Fred paused. "I think your next delivery would have included them now that I think about it."

"So now what? Are we gonna stay up here or are we gonna try and make the trek to New Beijing?" Kevin asked.

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm really curious about these aliens," Michael said. "What say we grab two or three of their bodies and take a look at them in the Observatory, you guys have got to have a lab or something we can use. After that we can discuss what we wanna do."

Kevin stared at Michael for a moment before asking, "You want to dissect the aliens?"

"I'll admit I'm not a scientist but we're at war with the aliens, anything we can learn about them would help. At the moment the only thing we've really learned is that they don't like it when we shoot at them."

"That's not true, we also learned that phasers bypass their shields but your shotgun doesn't," Fred pointed out.

"Alright fine, we've learned two things," Michael said crossly. "Regardless, I want to expand my knowledge, you two work for a school so aren't you like, morally required to help me or something?"

Kevin opened his mouth to say something but stopped when Fred glared at him. Michael didn't know what to make of it.

"Fine," Fred said. "We can dissect the aliens even though we have no idea what we're doing. But we're going to leave at least two of their bodies unmolested, I got a freezer to put them in so if Shanxi gets retaken our scientists will have something to study."

Michael raised an eyebrow at Fred. "You're really thinking long term here. If this turns into a long, drawn out war I guess it would help to have professionals study our enemies physiology."

"I've had a lot of time to think about this sort of thing in the past two days."


	18. Chapter 18: A Learning Experience

**Author's Note: **_Whoo! This chapter marks the point where I've surpassed 100,000 words, I was not expecting the story to be this long when I first wrote up the outline._

**A Learning Experience**

**New Beijing, Shanxi. March 15, 2157 AD**

Too many people don't appreciate pain. They think it's a horrible product of evolution and dearly wish some biotech firm would figure out how to eliminate pain. How much better things would, they think, if we didn't feel pain. That really shows a misunderstanding of what the purpose of pain is. Pain is your body's way of telling you that you have been damaged. If you fall and break your leg the reason it hurts so much is so that you don't put weight on the leg and damage it further. If you are driving your car and a warning light comes on, you have two options: you can try to figure out why the light came on and fix the problem or you can unplug the light. Painkillers are nothing but various ways of unplugging the warning lights your body is flashing at you, trying to get your attention. And if you drive a car that has been flashing warning lights at you for six months, it may break down beyond repair when if you had just fixed the initial problem it would still be working fine. So, to sum up, pain is a good thing and should never be ignored. That being said, Howard Ackerman would not have complained if someone decided to give him a shot of morphine straight into the spine. In fact, he would have agreed to buy them a round of drinks, assuming he made it out of this alive which, given the current circumstances, was highly unlikely.

After the lower half of Howard's body had been riddled with bullets he had not expected to get out of the school alive unless reinforcements showed up. Howard had managed to get a hold of a nearby squad with heavy weapons but they had gotten held up at a hospital so Howard had been trying (unsuccessfully) to remember last rites. Things had improved when Eva fixed her particle rifle, the survivors of the platoon were able to halt the alien infantry. The situation had stabilized into a standoff, whichever side decided to make the push would get slaughtered by the entrenched other side. But then the aliens decided to start using their brains (or maybe they were having logistical problems and had to wait for the right guy to show up) because they started lobbing grenades and Howard and his platoon. The aliens, they timed it perfectly. It wasn't like one of them used a grenade and when they realized it worked they all slowly caught up with the idea. They simultaneously jumped out of their hiding spots and all threw their bombs. Eva had shouted a warning just a few seconds before the grenades detonated, barely enough time to duck 'n cover. As Howard sat up and assessed the situation he realized, as he looked around, that no else was still alive. Quite a few of the people weren't even recognizable as people at this point. The only reason Howard was still alive was because, due to his earlier injuries, he was sitting in the far back of the room. Howard glanced over at Giles and Fuller, they were the farthest two back from the barricade (besides Howard) so if anyone else had survived it would have been them but the two men were just lying there, unmoving, without the telltale rise and fall of their chests to indicate breathing.

Howard groped around, searching for his submachine gun (he lost his phaser at some point during the retreat). He had enjoyed his posting as a scout. It was fun being off by yourself, relaying information back to the platoon. The only problem was he had to travel light to be quick on his feet and boy did he feel under-equipped when it came time for a firefight. Howard knew it would only be about a minute before the aliens started advancing into the room and he wanted a weapon in his hand when they got here. He finally saw his submachine gun which, sadly, had been blown pretty far away in the explosions. However, Giles' guns were still strapped to his back and the man loved his assault rifles. He was the only one in the platoon to carry two (both of which were kinetic weapons, Howard didn't want to wish ill of the freshly dead but damn did he want to punch the man in the face for that, why couldn't one of them have been a phaser rifle?).

Howard fell forward on his stomach and used his arms to crawl forward as quickly as he could manage. When he reached Giles all Howard could think of was how glad he was that Giles had died face down. Howard did not relish the idea of having to roll a fully armored man over when he couldn't use his legs for leverage. He grabbed the closer of the two guns strapped the Giles back and let it unfold into shape. Huh, it had a Smith & Wesson logo on the stock. A lot of people preferred their handguns but there weren't many soldiers that used their rifles, tended not to have the same level of craftsmanship as the pistols. Howard didn't have time to grab the other rifle and do a comparison because the first alien came through the broken doorway and climbed over the (still mostly intact) refrigerator. He took aim and pulled the trigger for all it was worth. Luckily, he managed to keep a good grip on the gun so he didn't waste half of his shots on the ceiling above the alien. The alien dove behind a table but Howard refused to let up. He kept shooting, quickly blowing holes in the plastic table and this time he didn't see the flash of the aliens shields flaring up. Howard grinned, he must have unloaded enough rounds during his surprise attack that the alien's shields had shut down, he had to keep on the pressure before they recharged. Unfortunately, Howard wasn't able to kill the first alien as a second one came into the room and Howard was forced to switch to the second target lest he end up with an unwanted hole in his head. Howard was able to keep the second alien suppressed but couldn't switch focus back quickly enough because he heard the sound of the first alien's shields reactivating.

Howard cursed and weighed his options. He could continue alternating between the two aliens, forcing them behind cover but he wouldn't be able to kill either of them. He could focus fire on just one and hope he killed it before the other one shot him dead. Neither of those were very appealing. The decision was taken out of Howard's hands when a third alien hopped over the fridge and came into the room. He was barely able to keep two aliens busy, there was no way he was going to be able to handle three. Howard turned and lined up his gun sight on the first alien and pulled the trigger as hard as he was able. Howard saw the alien's shields flare up and also saw, out of the corner of his eye, the other two aliens take aim and fire at his position. It was a contest to see whose shields failed first and, sadly, those shields belonged to Howard. Howard's felt the aliens shots rip into his right shoulder and, despite his best efforts, his arm when slack and the rifle slipped from his grip.

Howard tried to shift his left hand around to grip the gun's handle but before he could properly aim the thing one of the aliens ran up and kicked Howard in the face. His head snapped back from the force of the blow, Howard was really regretting having taken off his helmet earlier. Howard's vision was fuzzy and he was having trouble focusing meaning he had probably just gotten a concussion. He felt alien grab his armor and haul him into a sitting position. Howard tried to ignore the pain shooting across his face to focus on the alien. Something was broken, his nose, his teeth, his jaw, Howard wasn't sure what exactly but based what he was feeling there was definitely something busted. He looked at the alien, well that wasn't really correct. He looked at the polarized glass on the aliens helmet. The glass was so dinged, scratched, and dirty that it couldn't even function as a halfway decent mirror. Howard sighed, he would have liked to see what part of his face was broken before the aliens killed him. He wished they would get on with it though, the alien that had grabbed Howard was shaking him and shouting something as more aliens filed into the room.

Suddenly, the shaking stopped. Howard forced his eyes to stay open and look at what was going on. One of the other aliens had walked up and grabbed Shaker on the shoulder. The two appeared to be arguing, probably about who got to kill Howard or something. Having given up on getting out of this situation alive, Howard was about to try to use his functional arm to punch Shaker when the aliens all jerked their heads up and began looking around. Howard would have assumed that they had just gotten orders over their radios but then he heard a familiar noise (guess that meant the aliens had better hearing than humans, useful fact to file away for later use). Howard wasn't sure if the aliens knew what that sound was but considering how many over-the-top action movie Howard has seen in his life, he knew exactly what that sound was. It was the sound of a gatling gun revving up to speed. Howard used his arm to smack aside Shaker's hands which resulted in Howard falling down to the floor. Just as Shaker started to reach down to pick Howard up the bullets started flying. It was fascinating how much the atmosphere and attitude of the room changed in that split second. One moment the aliens were looking around, trying to identify the whirling noise and the next moment they are diving to the floor to avoid the (loud) barrage of rounds cutting through the wall to Howard's left. Howard watched in awe as the wall seemed to disintegrate as the gatling gun continued firing, it was like if someone had used a high powered hose to spray water at styrofoam. The second an alien tried to return fire they were immediately targeted by the blast of death. And then just as quickly as it had started, the spray of bullets stopped.

Howard used his one good limb to push himself up so that he could look around. The alien corpses were almost in as bad of shape as those of his platoon. Explosions may take first place when it comes to messiest ways to kill somebody but damn if a gatling gun doesn't give grenades a good run for their money. Several of the aliens had been slicing in half (some vertically, others horizontally) by the sheer number of bullets.

"We were too late," a deep voice said.

Howard turned around to see three men in very bulky armor, with very big guns, walk through the hole that formerly was a wall.

"Well," Howard coughed. "Your timing could have been better but I appreciate the rescue nonetheless. I assume that you're Lion's Squad?"

"That we are," the man with the gatling gun said. "Looks like you're the only survivor. Any last words you wanna say to your people before we haul ass outta here?"

Howard looked around at all the death in the room. He shook his head. "No, there's no point swearing revenge."

Howard couldn't see so much as sense the eyebrows being raised behind the helmets. "Are you saying that because you don't think we can win and are feeling fatalistic or because you think we can and don't want to throw your life away?" asked the soldier that was holding what appeared to be a flamethrower.

"We don't have to win any battles with the aliens. Hell, we could pull a George Washington and lose most of them. We just have to survive the fights long enough for the brass at Arcturus to send in the cavalry," Howard explained.

"Works for me," said the man with the deep voice. "Chang, your incinerator is almost out of fuel and we don't have any more back at basecamp, toss it and carry Gimpy."

On the one hand, Howard wanted to object to the nickname he had just been given. On the other hand, it was accurate and he wasn't about to argue with the men that had just saved his life.

**Jia Siang, Shanxi. March 16, 2157 AD**

Schmidty had long since given up trying to keep track of where they were. His partner, Jingles, was leading the way using a paper (seriously, paper!) map he had gotten from some cavern tour company employee that had been hiding in the same strip mall that their platoon had been.

"I thought we weren't supposed to use the Labyrinth tunnels for travel because Command is worried the aliens will wonder how we're moving about and discover all the people hiding underground?"**  
><strong>

"That is true Schmidty. However, we were also ordered to quickly travel around Jia Siang, kill some aliens, and disappear just as quickly so that the aliens think that there are more TR-116 snipers than just our squad," Jingles said without turning around. "Besides, we're only using some of the secondary tunnels, we aren't anywhere near the official 'Labyrinth' part of the Labyrinth."

"Yea but the second order came from the Lieutenant, the first one came from General Williams," Schmidty argued.

"True, but a good general knows to not micromanage when it comes minute details like squad deployment. Sometimes, the higher ups have to trust their officers on the ground and have faith that they will give the orders best suited for the situation."

". . .so basically the Lieutenant is going to ask for forgiveness rather than permission?"**  
><strong>

Jingles chuckled. "You're catching on."

"Yea yea," Schmidty grumbled. "Look are we there yet? These caves creep me out. It's like we're in a low budget horror movie; it's just the two of us, we're hiding in hard-to-navigate tunnels, the only light is coming from our wrist computers. . ."

"You watch too many movies," Jingles said with a shake of his head.**  
><strong>

"You say that now but if a glowing midget suddenly suddenly appeared in the cave you know you would shoot to kill."

"Why would I do that? Any dwarf we meet down here wouldn't be radioactive, they'd be horny."

Jingles and Schmidty managed to keep straight faces for a full five seconds before they both erupted into full belly laughter.

"Oh man," Schmidty said as he slapped Jingles on the back. "That didn't seem like the kind of movie you would be into so I thought for sure that reference was going to go over your head."**  
><strong>

"Are you kidding? Who in the military hasn't seen Attack of the Radioactive Mutant Space Dwarves? I'm just amazed I actually got an opportunity to work that into a conversation and that it made sense," the older man said as he wiped the tears from his eyes. "But in answer to your question, we're almost there. The map says we take a left at the next split and then it's a straight shot to the surface."

While the laughter had helped ease the tension, Schmidty hadn't been joking when he said this place made him uncomfortable. The tunnel was barely wide enough for a man to walk through but the ceiling was so high that Schmidty could have stood on Jingles shoulders and he still would have had head room. Not to mention the fact that the light from their wrist computers cast weird shadows on the misshapen tunnel. Schmidty was constantly looking above and behind him, just knowing that some dangerous monster was going to leap out and disembowel the two men. Was it racist to wish they had brought along D'marcus as a decoy? The man was a good soldier and all but he would probably be the first one to get killed if anything came along because, well because that's how the universe worked.

"Hold it!" Jingles said as he stopped suddenly. "Do you hear that?"

Schmidty stopped moving and listened. He could feel the air moving through the tunnel so they were getting close to the exit but as far as sounds went nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Schmidty was about to respond when he heard a splash, as if someone stepped in a puddle. It came from somewhere ahead of them.

"Someone else is down here," Schmidty said to Jingles.

"That's what I thought too. Lights off, guns out."

The two men killed the illumination coming from their wrists and took out their close-quarters combat weapons. A shotgun for Jingles and a phaser pistol for Schmidty. They waited for the eyes to adjust to the change in light before slowly advancing forward. Because of how little room there was in the tunnel if they were forced into a firefight Jingles would immediately go prone so that Schmidty could fire without worrying about accidentally shooting him in the back. As they moved around a curve the two men saw a long red light coming from the right of a T-intersection up ahead.**  
><strong>

"That looks like a laser sight," Schmidty whispered.

"Yea it does. . .but who walks around with the sight constantly on like that? It gave their position away to us and it doesn't look like it provides enough light to bother having it on."

"So it's either an alien that is using technology that we don't understand or it's a civvie that has no idea what they're doing?"

"Not necessarily, there is one other explanation," Jingles responded. "It could be a combat drone for the Borg."**  
><strong>

Schmidty paused to think about the possibilities. "Alright, how do you want to play this then?"

"We get into firing position and wait for them to walk across our line of sight. If it's an alien we shoot, if it's not we'll go talk to whoever it is."

"Roger that," Schmidty said as they began inching forward. Once they were close enough that they were confident they wouldn't miss if they had to shoot at whatever it was that was coming they stopped and readied their weapons. Schmidty tensed as he heard footsteps getting closer and closer. His finger caressed the trigger, ready to pull it at a moments notice. Then the source of the red light came into view. It was a Borg drone after all, Jingles had been right.

"Oiy drone! What are you doing down here?" Schmidty shouted at the drone as it passed them by.

"That was weird, not only did it ignore me but it didn't even slow down and glance at us. Do you think the aliens infected its cybernetics with a virus or something?" Schmidty asked after the drone had continued walking.

"Oh, that wasn't that unusual. Getting a conversation out of a drone is like pulling teeth, except at least with the second one you have something to show for your effort."

"So. . ." Schmidty wasn't even sure what to ask at this point.

"Come on," Jingles said as he holstered his weapon. "We'll follow the drone. At the moment it considers us on par with the civilians in terms of usefulness in a firefight. Once we show it that we're worth noticing it will expend the energy to engage us in conversation."

**Yushan Mountain Range, Shanxi. March 16, 2157 AD**

"So," Kevin said as he took a bite from the sandwich he had made. "Learn anything yet?"

Michael glanced up from the alien body he was currently elbow deep in. "Yes, actually. When we first got the aliens out of their armor I assumed they were reptiles cus of all the scales but they are actually avian."

"Avian? You mean like birds? Is that why his blood is blue?"

"First, yes like birds. Second, I have no idea why the blood is blue, that's beyond my understanding of biology. Third, this is a she not a he." When Michael said the last part Kevin choked on his food in surprise.

"What? Seriously? How can you tell? I don't see any boobs," Kevin asked after he finished coughing.

"You really want me to explain the difference between men and women?" Michael deadpanned as he pulled an organ out of the corpse. "I mean, I suppose I can show you the plumbing but I would have thought you'd have learned the difference by your age. Furthermore, of course she doesn't have breasts, I just said it was avian not mammalian."

"Oh," Kevin said, suddenly feeling very stupid. "Yea, that makes sense. Just forget I said anything."

"No promises, that was pretty dumb."

Kevin huffed. "Did you learn anything useful at least?"

Michael shrugged. "Depends on what you consider useful. I learned they aren't edible."

Kevin stared at Michael in shock. "You ate one of them?!"

"Well obviously not an entire body. I cooked one of their thighs which actually tasted alright, bit gamey though. It did not sit well with me. I spent the majority of last night praying to the porcelain god and even now my stomach is still churning."

"Wh-_why _would you do that?"

"Kevin, I don't know if you noticed but it's not like people can go out and work the fields to harvest crops right now. Because of that there is a limited amount of food available right now, even less in a couple weeks once things start spoiling. I'm not saying I'm looking forward to it but we may be forced to eat things we would rather not in order to survive. However, the aliens are apparently not one of those things judging from how my stomach reacted."**  
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Kevin just looked at Michael in disgust. "I'm not hungry anymore," Kevin said as he threw his sandwich in the trash.

"Were you not listening to what I just said you idiot?!" Michael shouted. "We don't know how long are food supplies are going to last and you just threw away a sandwich!"

Kevin couldn't even muster a response, he simply walked out of the room. As he moved down the hall he had to admit Michael may have had a point, they really didn't know how long the invasion would last and so needed to conserve their food and water. Then again there were plenty of goats on the mountain, course that would require them venturing out and possibly attracting more attention. Kevin didn't know what to think at this point. He just wanted things to go back to normal.

Worrying about how long supplies would last and how many aliens they would have to kill and all that stuff was just so depressing to think about. The only reason Kevin had taken this job was because it paid so well for how little work he had been required to do. He spent the majority of his time watching movies and playing video games.

Kevin still wasn't sure how he felt about having killed the aliens. It was one thing to 'kill' people in a video game or watch them get killed in a movie, it was entirely different to do it yourself. Anyone that says violent media desensitizes you to actual violence has clearly never had to fight anyone and then watch the light leave their eyes as they died. Yes, the aliens had invaded Shanxi and destroyed the fleet overhead. Yes, they had shot with intent to kill at Kevin, Michael, and Fred. Yes, Kevin did not want to die. But even with all that, Kevin still didn't feel right having killed the aliens. He had ended to lives of seven thinking, feeling people. Michael had said one of the aliens was female, was she a mother? Did she have kids and a husband somewhere, waiting for her to come home? Maybe her husband had died and she had only joined the military because it was a steady job to support her family and now she was dead, simply because Kevin was better armed than she had been. Kevin and the alien woman had found themselves in a zero-sum game, whoever won did so due to the other's loss. Kevin pragmatically understood the situation and from that viewpoint he knew he had done the right thing. But from a moral and philosophical perspective Kevin was still unhappy with his actions and didn't know if he ever would be comfortable with what he did.

Kevin reached the end of the hallway and opened the door into the warehouse where Fred had set up a firing range to test the aliens' guns. As Kevin entered the room he saw Fred was standing by a table with dozens of little machine parts scattered across the table's surface.

"I take it you finally decided to try disassembling one of their guns?" Kevin asked

"Yep. I'll be the first to admit my knowledge of guns is not very up to date but I've got to say that these guns are not that different from some of ours. Our eezo powered ones I mean, they're nothing like our phasers."

"You know, it's just odd that their shields didn't stop phaser fire. I remember the last time I was browsing around on the Borg's website I noticed that even the cheapest personal shield stops phaser fire, for a couple seconds anyway. And yet these aliens, the first soldiers of their invasion force, can't do much of anything to protect themselves."

"That's true," Fred said as he scanned the various pieces on the table with his wrist computer. "But you gotta remember that it's only the Borg's shield's that stop phaser fire. Devlon Industries and Rosenkov Materials both make personal shields but they only stop bullets and such. I think, though don't quote me on this, it's because the Borg tend to avoid using eezo in most of their products and so they had to find a different way to create shields."

"Devlon Industries? Rosenkov Materials? Who the hell are they? I have never heard of these companies."

"That's because you don't watch the news Kevin," Fred said with a roll of his eyes. "They are giant defense contractors for numerous governments, including the Systems Alliance."

"I don't watch the news but that doesn't mean I'm clueless. I've got friends that have Borg personal shielding but I don't know anyone with _Devlon Industries _protection." Kevin made sure to say the company name in a mocking tone.

"That because, unlike the Borg, Devlon and Rosenkov only sell to the military, law enforcement, and security firms. They don't want to go around arming potential criminals."

"Well, I suppose that makes sense." Kevin shook his head. "But we're getting off topic here, the guns?"

"Right. Like I was saying, they really aren't that different from some of the weapons Alliance marines use. About the same in quality, if I had to make a guess, which, as you sort of mentioned, is just weird. Aliens are supposed to be advanced, they built the phase gates, yet somehow our weapons are on par, or in the case of phasers superior, with theirs."

"How do we know that these aliens built the phase gates? Maybe they found them the same way we did?"

"Anyone with the ability to build the phase gates would have to be pretty damn powerful and considering the aliens seem to be having problems taking over Shanxi I would say that you may be onto something there Kevin."

"The bird brains are having trouble taking over Shanxi?" Kevin asked in surprise.

"Bird brains? Wha. . .nevermind. Yea, I've been listening to the radio broadcasts when I need to take my mind off things. " Fred jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the computer in the corner of the room. It was supposed to only be used for keeping track inventory in the warehouse but Fred had jury-rigged it ages ago to act as an all purpose communication device so that he could pick up radio stations. It got really quiet in the warehouse and Fred had been tired of burning through his wrist computer's battery. "The military stopped bothering to broadcast the message about arming yourself against the aliens, people have figured that part out by now. Because of that, and the fact that there aren't stations filling the airwaves with pointless music, I can pick up signals from anyone nearby that's transmitting. A lot of the military chatter is coded and I have no idea what they're saying but the police and civilians are a lot less careful. I'm pretty up to date on the situation in New Beijing. We aren't winning, but we ain't exactly losing either."

"What about the other cities? Or the small towns out in the countryside?"

Fred looked uneasy. "Jia Siang and Ba Sing Se are supposedly doing a pretty good job resisting but given how far away those cities are it's like playing a game of Telephone."

"What do you mean?" Kevin asked.

"The aliens took out a lot of communication infrastructure, including all our satellites. The only reliable way anyone's been able to talk over a distance is with radios but they have a limited range. So the only way I can find out what's going on in Jia Siang is to listen to a guy who talked to a guy that talked to a guy that talked to a guy in Jia Siang."

"Why don't you ask for clarification?"

"Are you kidding? I'm only going to listen. There is no way I'm sending out a message and giving away our position, we attracted enough attention as it is just from Mike's booby trap."

Kevin scratched his chin in thought as he asked, "Doesn't the Observatory automatically send messages back to Earth on the stars and other space crap that it's been looking at? I imagine that's got to be way more of attention getter than a shortwave radio transmission. Plus I would think that if any of the aliens were going to investigate the explosion they would have gotten here by now."

"I disabled the Observatory's communication equipment to prevent it from doing exactly that," Fred explained. "To your second point, that's not a sure thing. We could just be low down on the priorities. If that's the case we can't stay here forever."

"This again? Why can't we hold our ground here where we can dig in? Why do you and Michael insist on making our way through miles of forest to get to a city that we _know _is engulfed in a horrendous slaughter?"

"Because I've been hearing stories of some of the smaller settlements going completely silent after the aliens show up. They kill everyone when they take over an area. The three of us were just barely able to hold off the aliens and from what Michael told us they were under-supplied and possibly injured because he took out their transport. What happens when they make a legitimate effort to take over the Observatory?" Kevin didn't have a response to that question. Fred continued speaking, "They are going to kill us if we stay here. If we make it to New Beijing we at least have a chance of surviving."

"So what are we gonna do about the Observatory then?

"What do you mean what are we going to do about it?"

"We've already established that Borg technology seems to be better than what the aliens have and-" Kevin paused to make sure Michael wasn't about to come through the door. He lowered his voice just to be safe as he said, "seeing as how the Borg wanted this place built and have some technology lying around don't you think we should maybe make sure the aliens don't get their claws on it?"

"I doubt Michael has enough explosives to destroy the entire complex," Fred said. "Also, it's one thing that I told you about the Observatory's real purpose. I can probably argue my way out of getting in trouble, assuming I survive this. It would be something else entirely if I had to explain to the drones why I stood by and watched while this facility was destroyed. Our contracts don't have 'alien invasion' contingencies built into them, we would _definitely _be assimilated if we blew this place up."

"Oh but we wouldn't get assimilated if we just up and left?" Kevin asked sarcastically.

"No, we wouldn't," Fred said in a are-you-stupid voice. "Wait. . .you seriously haven't read the contract you signed to work here, have you?"

"Well. . .I sort of did. . .OK, not really. My parents read it and then told me the main jist of it."

Fred facepalmed. "Kevin, you should never, ever, _ever _sign a contract with the Borg if you haven't personally read it. They have all sorts of clauses and exemptions and rules in them and the most common punishment for violating the terms of the contract is assimilation." Fred sighed. "Alright look, I'm assuming your contract is the same as mine. Mine has a list of reason why I'm allowed to leave the premises, one of them being if my life is in danger and the only available help is not willing to come here. It was put into the contract in case there was some kind of medical emergency and I had to get transported to a hospital but," Fred paused for emphasis. "_But _the argument could be made that the aliens constitute, while not an immediate, at least an eventual threat that will endanger my life if I stay here. Therefor, I am allowed to leave without breaking my contract."

"That's. . .really ingenious. I'm surprised, I didn't think you were capable of that kind of legal fanegaling."

"I used to own a farm, remember? You've always been an employee Kevin so I doubt you can understand what's it like to be your own boss. You don't have a safety net, there's no one else you can pass the problem along to. If the business doesn't make money it's your ass on the line. As an employee, if you sign a bad contract the company will lose money. As the owner, if you sign a bad contract the business could go under and you might have to declare bankruptcy."

"That sounds really stressful."

"It was," Fred said emphatically. "Hence why I sold the farm and decided to do this instead, however I think the conversation has drifted a bit."

"Right, that it has," Kevin agreed. "Uh. . .what were we talking about?"

"How we're going to leave the Observatory and head for New Beijing," Fred answered.

"Yes that! And also how we shouldn't let the aliens get a hold of the Borg technology here."

"Other than locking the doors on our way out, there is not a lot we can do. Maybe if Michael had access to more of his supplies." Fred held his hands out in a what-can-you-do manner. "But those are either back at his house or ruined from the explosion."

"Speaking of Michael, I got to say that guy is messed up, like _really _messed up. I think meeting the aliens unhinged him a bit."

"Michael's been a little off for as long as I've known him but he's generally a good person, what prompted this?" Fred asked.

"He ate part of one of the aliens." Kevin shuddered. "I would have thought it would have taken a bit longer before we resorted to cannibalism."

Fred sighed. "Kevin, Michael had a very good reason for that."

"You knew?"

"Yea, he told me about it last night after I asked why he was in so much pain."

"And you're just OK with this?"

"You need to realize something important about Michael. He doesn't mind people thinking he's an asshole, but he doesn't want to actually be an asshole," Fred went silent as he tried to figure out how to put it into words before finally speaking again. "Michael will gladly let you think he's a nut-job that regularly chows down into aliens in order to find out if they're edible rather than you dying from starvation two months from now because he didn't explore the possibility while he had the chance. It's why he doesn't mind that people think he's weird for owning so many weapons because he knows he won't use them on anyone that doesn't deserve it."

"Are we talking about the same Michael?" Kevin asked. "Cus the one I know isn't as selfless as you're describing. I mean, he's not a total dick but he still looks out for himself first."

"I'll admit you're not wrong when you say that. But you have to look at things through the filter that Michael uses: that every government and big corporation is out to get him, out to take over the galaxy and control the everything. Michael is an asshole because everything is obvious to him and he's annoyed that we don't see the 'truth' and he's sick of trying to convince people. Every notice just how affable Michael can be when you're not talking about some hot button issue with him? It's because he's genuinely a nice person but because he thinks he's in constant danger he has to look out for himself before others."

"Are you sure you aren't just over-analyzing it?"

Fred shrugged and grinned at Kevin. "That's always a possibility."


	19. Chapter 19: A Different Perspective

**A Different Perspective**

**Dreadnought **_**Cyprian's Grace**_**, Shanxi Orbit. March 19, 2157 AD**

Somebody had screwed up. Not in a waiter-brought-the-wrong-flavor-of-Tupari way nor a sent-in-the-wrong-tax-form way. No, this was a once-in-an-asari's-lifetime mistake. The kind of mistake you hope to only read about because if you happen to witness such an occurrence then that means you are already within the event horizon and there is nothing you can do but pray to the spirits that you make it out alive.

A patrol group in the Attican Traverse, under the command of one Captain Jallus, discovered several unknown vessels attempting to activate a Mass Relay. The hotheaded Captain ordered his ships to open fire before making any attempts at communication. While Jallus was successful in preventing the Relay from being activated, one of the unknown ships managed to escape and brought back reinforcements which destroyed all of Jallus' ships. Fortunately, Admiral Marius had been informed of the situation by that point and was already on route with his fleet. Marius dearly wished he knew which moron was responsible for giving a trigger happy cloaca like Jallus command of multiple ships, anyone who had ever met the man knew he wasn't fit to lead a pyjack to food, much less lead a group of ships in a volatile area of space. When this was all over Marius would make sure to get to the bottom of Jallus' promotion, but for now he had a job to do.

Truth be told, Marius wasn't even sure what his job exactly was. When he had first received Jallus' distress call, Marius had been under the impression that it was Terminus pirates that were responsible and so he had planned to track them down and blow their base of operations to the spirits. When it was discovered that it was an undiscovered race Marius had sent a message back to his superiors to let them know the situation but he nonetheless had to track the aliens down. Marius and his fleet needed to, while not necessarily decimate, at least do enough damage to subdue the aliens. He needed to prevent any attempts by the aliens to launch a counterattack. But beyond that. . .probably wait until a politician made a decision.

Marius sighed and glanced back over the reports his second, General Desolas, had sent up from the planet's surface. The aliens were a diverse group, employing a wide range of tactics. While Marius admired the spirited resistance they were putting up, the fact that they were killing his men mostly negated any positive feelings that arose from that respect. Marius couldn't help but wonder what sort of society these people lived in that caused them to be so diverse in their fighting. Most races had skills that they were good at and stuck to them in a fight; asari were mobile warriors that made precision strikes, salarians planned three moves ahead with top-of-the-line tech, krogan just kept going until either they or their enemy was dead, turians were a well-oiled war machine that worked together to engage in total war, but these aliens. . .the first rule of their combat doctrine appeared to be to disregard all other rules of their combat doctrine if it was advantageous to do so.

When the first turian boots began touching the ground the aliens stood their ground while making use of mechanized suits of armor and handheld laser weaponry. Thanks to some carefully aimed orbital bombardment the aliens were forced to scatter which allowed Marius' men to establish footholds and set up several headquarters for the course of the invasion. Based on their initial defensive maneuvers, both Desolas and Marius had agreed that the aliens were probably similar to the krogan in that they preferred fights to be straight up and solved with a gratuitous amount of firepower. Both men were proven wrong when the aliens retaliated, making use of clever hit-and-run tactics in order to lead turian patrols into ambushes that, more often than not, resulted in entire patrols getting killed. When Desolas made it a requirement that every patrol had to be accompanied by either a tank or a gunship the aliens switched tactics again and began making heavy use of booby traps, they usually didn't do much, if any, damage to the tanks (the gunships were always out of range of the traps) but they could do some heavy damage to the infantry. So, in an effort to divert the alien's attention, Marius had authorized the use of the hastatim in order to regain momentum. Since all turians received military training the 'execution squads' were necessary step in taking over an area but the asari and salarians tended to be disgusted at the targeting of 'civilians' so the hastaim were usually only ever deployed against other turians but given how this campaign was going, Marius had felt it was necessary.

Even with all the problems the aliens were giving them, this planet would come under the heel of the Turian Hierarchy, it was just going to take longer than anyone had expected. Things were actually going well overall. The fleet had taken control of the system with a minimal loss of life turian life. Scout ships had been sent out to nearby systems to see if there were anymore of the aliens lurking around and so far nothing had been found. Last thing Marius needed was a flotilla of alien ships showing up and causing havoc just because he hadn't bothered to secure his rear.

While it was patently obvious that this wasn't the aliens' home-world, Marius wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing that they hadn't found anything in the nearby systems. Did that mean this was just a really remote colony? If that was the case reinforcements could be on the way and it would just take a long time for them to get here. Maybe the colony was founded by refugees fleeing their home-world, if they had fled persecution would they even call for help? Marius remembered reading about a star somewhere around this part of the Traverse that went supernova several decades ago, what if the aliens had been from that system and this was all that was left of their entire race? There were too many unknowns, that was one of the deciding factors in deploying the hastaim. While the turians were slowly winning, Marius didn't want to have all his troops stuck planet-side in the event that an alien armada showed up, he wanted them safely back up on the ships which meant winning the land war as soon as possible.

**Jia Siang, Shanxi. March 19, 2157 AD**

Aeliana ducked behind an overturned vehicle and tried to catch her breath. She couldn't decide if she was the luckiest or unluckiest turian on this spirits-be-damned planet. She was the pilot of a gunship and had been making passes over an area known to have snipers when she was shot down by an alien with a rocket launcher. Her copilot had died instantly when the rocket had struck the ship, Aeliana not only survived the blast but also the crash landing. Unfortunately, her omni-tool had been damaged either by the rocket or the crash (probably the former) so Aeliana couldn't call for a pickup, she was forced to make the trek back to the turian line on foot by herself.

She hadn't gotten far when one of the aliens walked out from between two buildings. The weird thing was that, at first, the alien hadn't even noticed her. In fact, it hadn't noticed anything. It was walking through a war zone as if it was walking through an office. It didn't turn its head to look around, didn't change its pace as it came out in the open, the alien might as well have been a security mech. The alien did, however, notice Aeliana after she shot it which, in retrospect, was a stupid thing to do. Why call attention to yourself if the enemy is content to ignore you? The worst part was that she hadn't even hurt it, its shields had activated and deflected everything her pathetic M-1 Predator pistol spat out.

Aeliana ended up wasting too much time pouring useless fire into the alien, hoping to get its shields down, which allowed the damn thing to get close enough to engage her in a melee fight. As it swung its right arm at her Aeliana got a clear look at the alien and she couldn't help but be reviled at what she saw. The alien was covered in cybernetics, Aeliana wasn't sure how much of the creature's suit was removable and how much was grafted onto its body. What little skin was exposed was sickly white with dark black veins pulsing underneath. What kind of monsters were these aliens that they would alter their bodies to such horrific extents? Aeliana tried to block the alien's swing with her left arm, and she was technically successful in that, but the force of the blow drove her to her knees. Before she could react the alien brought its left arm to her neck in what she thought was going to be an uppercut punch but instead it grabbed her head and she felt it jab something below her mandible joint. Aeliana moved her right arm up and shoved at the inside of the alien's elbow to get its arm away from her head. Surprisingly, given how strong the alien had been when it first struck her, Aeliana was able to push the arm aside and scramble backwards. The alien just stood there, staring at her, before it turned around and walked off. That had been the most terrifying part of the whole encounter. Who just walks away from an enemy that is trying to kill you?

That had been the point when one of the local snipers had noticed her. He had clipped her hip and after that had been content to take potshots at her as she ran. Aeliana knew, based on the reports, that the snipers in this area were very, very good so she knew the sniper wasn't missing because of lack of skill. He was intentionally shooting next to her, just to let her know that he could kill her at any time. The sniper's shots chased her three blocks to her current position, hiding behind the wrecked car. Aeliana actually recognized where she was, it was just two more blocks to the turian line. Under normal circumstances she would be able to run that easily but between the bullet wound, her injuries from the crash, the. . . whatever that alien had done to her, and the exhaustion brought on by dodging the sniper Aeliana wasn't sure if she would be able to make it, assuming the sniper didn't kill her first.

Aeliana waited until she got her breathing under control before sprinting out from her hiding place. As soon as she started running she heard the bang of a shot striking a sign next to her. Aeliana dearly wished she had managed to kill some of the snipers when she was patrolling overhead. Every single turian assigned to this area, regardless of rank or job, would sacrifice a limb to get their hands on one of those snipers or their guns. No one knew how, but the snipers were capable of seeing and shooting through walls. It was the only way this sniper was able to hound her throughout her entire run, a normal sniper would have given up long ago, there were far too many obstacles that she could have used as cover otherwise. Come to think of it, had that car she hid behind done anything? Was it a special material that blocked the snipers sight? What if the sniper had just been reloading at that point? Or maybe the sadistic bastard was just letting her have a breather before chasing her some more. . .yea that one seemed the most likely.

As another shot struck the ground a few feet in front of her, Aeliana saw two turian tanks coming out of a side street onto the road she was running along. She didn't know whether to be pleased or worried by this. She was happy because if she made it to the tanks she could get a ride back and would be safe from the sniper (while they could shoot through walls they couldn't shoot through the heavy duty shields the tanks sported) but Aeliana was worried because the sniper also knew that she'd be safe in the tanks. He'd probably decide to stop toying with her and kill her just as she got to the first tank. Still, it was a chance she had to take. As Aeliana ran towards the tanks she began shouting and waving her arms, trying to get their attention, when pain suddenly blossomed in her chest. She stumbled and fell to the ground. Aeliana groaned and looked down and saw blood pooling on the ground from the hole in her chest. Right before she passed out Aeliana couldn't help but admire the power behind that gun.

**Jia Siang, Shanxi. March 19, 2157 AD**

Cassius was not prepared for the situation he found himself in. He was a field medic, freshly graduated from boot camp. When he had first been assigned to Admiral Marius' flotilla Cassius had expected to be part of raiding parties that boarded pirate ships. He expected his job to be to stabilize wounded soldiers long enough to get them to a proper medical facility back on the ship. Instead, Cassius found himself in charge of all the medical personnel of this city because two days ago one of the alien snipers had gotten close enough to the base and taken out every single person working in the makeshift field hospital at the time. Those that were in the base but weren't working at been killed when they rushed in to try and help. There were only three medics (besides Cassius) still alive and that was because all four of them had been out on patrol during the attack. Cassius had sent a request up the chain of command asking for someone with more experience to get transferred here and put on charge of everything but he hadn't heard anything back yet. So here Cassius was, trying to keep a group of turians with a various degree of wounds alive, all the while hoping that the increased security meant that the sniper couldn't make it back here and kill him off.

"Medic! We got a wounded for you! She taken a shot to the chest, lost a lot of blood but is still breathing!"

Cassius spun around at the sound of the voice. He quickly dropped the datapad he was using to check his inventory of medicine and rushed over to the group of men as they brought in a wounded turian and put her on the nearest empty bed.

"Any idea how much blood she's lost? What's the time frame I'm looking at here?" Cassius asked as he activated the scan function on his omni-tool.

"She was shot less than five minutes ago in front of our convoy," one of the soldiers answered. "We got her inside our tank as quickly as possible and kept pressure on the wound the entire time back here."

Cassius reached into one of nearby cabinets and started grabbing supplies. "Good news is the shot didn't hit any vital organs, bad news is it hit a big artery and that's why she's bleeding so much. If I don't clamp that artery shut she isn't going to make it another five minutes."

**Jia Siang, Shanxi. March 20, 2157 AD**

Aeliana was vaguely aware that people around her. That was good, it meant she wasn't dead. Aeliana wanted to figure out where she was but she couldn't seem to focus on anything. When she opened her eyes everything was fuzzy and it made her head hurt so she just lay there. The only thing she could really focus on with any kind of clarity was the incessant murmuring in the back of her head. It was like if a hundred different people were talking on the floor above you, you could clearly hear something going on but couldn't make out the exact words. She tried listening to what the voices were saying but she just couldn't understand what they were saying, almost as if they were speaking a different language. . .that realization was enough to force Aeliana to bolt upright from where-ever she had been laying. She had been captured by the aliens!

"Whoa whoa soldier! Calm down before you undo all of my work!" a distinctively turian voice said as Aeliana felt hands grab her shoulders.

Aeliana tried to calm down and focus on the person in front of her. Gradually, they came into focus. It was a fairly good-looking man and judging from his attire he was a doctor, that would explain his comment.

"What happened?" Aeliana managed to ask.

The doctor released his grip and took a step back to examine her. "You were shot by a sniper, a tank crew saw you go down and they brought you in. I managed to keep you from bleeding to death but please, stay calm, I don't want you to tear anything."

"So. . .I wasn't capture by the aliens?" Aeliana asked.

"No. . ." The doctor sounded just as confused as Aeliana felt.

"It's just, I thought I heard voices and I couldn't understand what they were saying, I just assumed. . ."

The doctor put on a comforting smile. "Don't worry about, you had lost a lot of blood, that can cause all sorts of delusions and hallucinations due to lack of oxygen getting to the brain." He patted her shoulder. "We were quick getting more blood into you so there shouldn't be any lasting effects so just try to take it easy."

Aeliana slowly lowered herself back down onto the bed. "Thank you doctor. . ." she trailed off, realizing she hadn't gotten the man's name yet.

He chuckled. "Cassius, though I'm not actually a doctor, not yet anyway."

"Well, thank you all the same."

Cassius gave a nod of his head in acknowledgement and turned to check on the other patients in the room. Aeliana lay there, trying to calm herself down. She was alive, she was surrounded by fellow turians, she was Borg, she was safe. Wait, what had that thought been? Borg? What's a Borg? Aeliana shook her head in an attempt to clear it. She was still suffering side effects of the blood loss it seemed. Aeliana was perfectly willing to put up with some medical complications when the alternative was death.

Aeliana was lucky that sniper had been content to toy with her instead of just killing her. . .and that the cyborg left her alone. She had no idea what that thing had been thinking, just walking away in the middle of a fight like that. Wait, that wasn't true, she did know, it left her alone because they were allies. Why had she attacked it? Because they were at war. . .weren't they?

"Cassius?" Aeliana called out.

"Yes? Something wrong?" Cassius answered as he made his way over next to her bed.

"I'm not sure. Who. . .who are we fighting?"

Cassius looked at her with a worried expression on his face. "I don't think we've discovered what they call themselves. Look kinda like a cross between a batarian and a pink pyjack to me. Why? How's your memory?"

"My memory is fine. . .I think."

Cassius didn't look convinced, Aeliana didn't blame him, she wasn't convinced either.

"Lemme ask you a couple questions, see how quickly you can recall the information. Granted, I won't know if you're telling the truth or not but lying to me sort of defeats the whole purpose of this so I'll just accept the fact that you'll be telling the truth."

"OK," Aeliana agreed. "That sounds like a good idea."

Cassius sat down on the edge of the bed next to her. "What were your parents names?"

"My dad's name was Paul, he died in a car accident when I was five. My mother's name is Sharon."

"Paul and Sharon? Odd names but OK. Where did you grow up?"

"I grew up outside of Chicago but my mom remarried when I was sixteen and then we moved to Cincinnati."

Cassius had a strange look on his face but he continued without making a comment. "Any siblings?"

"Just my brother, George."

"You married?"

"I was, my wife's name was Emily but we got divorced when I was assimilated."

"When you were what?" Cassius asked.

"When I was. . .when I joined. . .I was never married, why did I say I was?" Aeliana tried to figure out what she had just said. Who was Emily? Come to think of it, who was George?

Cassius stood up and activated his omni-tool. "Well Aeliana I would say you're definitely experiencing something out of the ordinary, I just don't know what exactly. Maybe if Doctor Urbana was alive she could tell you."

Aeliana sat still as Cassius scanned her. He hmmmm-ed and ahhhh-ed as he read what his omni-tool was displaying. He fiddled with it before scanning her again.

"OK Aeliana, it seems that the your implant is malfunctioning and that's why you're having problems."

"Implant?" Aeliana asked, confused. "What implant?"

Cassius stared at her as if she had just told him she was actually an asari. "The device in your brain. . .what implant did you think I was referring to?"

"I don't have a device in my brain," Aeliana said sharply.

"Uh, yea you do. See?" Cassius turned his arm around so she could see the screen on his omni-tool. Sure enough, there was something in her head.

"I don't remember getting that. What is it?" Aeliana asked.

"Based on its location and the problems you're having, I would say it regulates your ability to recall memories," Cassius guessed. "The fact that it's damaged probably explains why you can't remember getting it."

"So what's wrong with it?"

"Well that question is a bit outside my field of expertise but it looks like it became partially disconnected from your brain, I'm assuming from all the trauma you recently experienced."

Aeliana hoped she was following this. "So you just need to go in there and move it so that its back in the spot it's supposed to be and that will reconnect it and I'll be back to normal?"

"Whoa there," Cassius said. "I am NOT about to attempt brain surgery on you for a non-life threatening injury. For starters, I am not qualified for that. Secondly, this is not a suitable location for something like that. I'll see what I can do about getting you transferred to a ship in orbit, if they've got a proper med-bay they might be able to attempt to fix you. But again, this is non-life threatening so there isn't any guarantee that they'll do it anytime soon."

"Thank you Cassius. This. . .thing worries me. I don't feel like me right now. My memories, my experience, made me who I am, if I can't trust them, who am I?"


	20. Chapter 20: Shock And Awe

**Shock And Awe**

**Outskirts of New Beijing, Shanxi. March 23, 2157 AD**

"Think of how different cultures on Earth have been. That's the same race of people on the same planet. These guys are from a totally different solar system, who knows what oddities they might have in their daily lives. Hell, something as simple as landscape influences culture, Fred. Like the ancient Egyptians: their religion and view of the afterlife was based on the idea of a cycle of rebirth. The reason for that is because the Nile river would regularly overflow its banks and fertilize the ground for farming year after year. Compare that to the nomadic Hebrews that never settled down, so they thought that their god was everywhere and always willing to watch over them provided they did the right thing. Now think of how the aliens' world could have changed their societies."

"How the hell do you know so much about history, Kevin?" Fred asked in surprise. "You never know anything about anything."

"Well first off, thank you for that. Second, I happen to play a lot of historical strategy games, you pick stuff up after a while."

Fred shook his head. "Right, well sorry for insulting you but the fact remains that I just don't care what Snaggletooth the Plumber thinks of his country's taxation policies when his race's armada is parked above my planet."

"And I understand that but at the same time it's not like we have anything else to do right now besides walk and talk so I just don't get how can you not be curious about this."

"I wouldn't mind watching a documentary on them someday, but right now? I say kill 'em all and let their god figure it out." Fred had to admit, the racial history of the alien invaders was the last thing he expected to be talking about but after seven days of walking through the wilderness with Kevin and Michael, they were rapidly running out conversation topics.

Kevin tossed his hands in the air. "Well then I guess we'll just march in silence until we catch up to Michael because you seem intent on using the 'invading aliens' conversation killer excuse."

"It's a legitimate excuse," Fred argued. "It's not like I'm blowing off a date because I have to wash my hair. I just don't want to think about the aliens as people seeing as how I'm probably going to have to kill some later on."

Kevin opened and closed his mouth several times, clearly not having any idea what to say in response. It was a cold, hard truth that until this war was over the aliens were the enemy and had to be shot on sight. Thinking of the lives they lead before they came to Shanxi might cause hesitation in a firefight and someone might get killed because of it. Fred refused to let someone die because he screwed up, he didn't want that kind of guilt following him around.

"I. . .I gotta say Fred, as depressing as that was, I'm glad you said it."

Fred stopped walking to turn and look Kevin in the face. "How so?"

Kevin took a deep breath and shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. "I just. . .you and Michael have been so. . .pragmatic, I guess is the right word. Emotions don't blind you guys, which is handy in shoot out and when we have to decide what plan we should go with but other times. . ." Kevin trailed off.

"Like when Michael and I didn't show any kind of respect or reverence for the dead alien bodies," Fred finished.

"Exactly! It was the smart choice, the one most likely to get us information that could help us survive. But I'm not sure I want to survive this if I have to compromise my principles to do it. What kind of life can I lead after all this is over if I don't recognize the person in the mirror?"

"You really think dissecting some aliens is going to make you hate yourself that much?"

"No, but it made me uncomfortable. What happens when it no longer makes me uncomfortable? When I reach that point what will be the next thing that makes me uncomfortable? How long before I move past that thing? When do I stop sliding down that slope? Will beliefs that I once held dearly important be discarded without a second thought simply because of the slow decline of my morals?"

"Unfortunately, I can't think of anything to say to make you feel better because I don't think you're wrong." Fred sighed and gave Kevin a reassuring pat on the back. "Come on, we should start moving again, don't want to fall even further behind Michael."

**Jia Siang, Shanxi. March 23, 2157 AD**

"OK, here's another one. What's the difference between an epileptic corn farmer and your mother with diarrhea? Well, one of them shucks between fits-" Finn's joke was cut short by a loud explosion and the sudden collapse of a nearby six story building.

"What the hell caused that?" Yon wondered aloud.

The two men were hiding inside a partially damaged water tower. An aircar had crashed onto the roof of this apartment building and smashed into the tank, spilling the liquid out and leaving the building's inhabitants without running water. Finn had decided the now horseshoe-shaped tank would make for a good vantage point for sniping and so the two men had set up here and had successfully killed off two squads of aliens three blocks over before the sudden change in architectural surroundings interrupted their celebrations.

"Hell if I know, there aren't any armored units around here and I doubt the dinosaurs would waste a bunch of explosives to blow up a nonstrategic building."

Before Yon had the chance to offer his idea on the cause both men's radios suddenly crackled to life. "Everyone in Section Charlie, just got word from command that the explosion we all heard was caused by orbital bombardment. Repeat: an alien ship is shooting at us. Duck 'n cover, we've got more incoming!"

Yon and Finn looked at each other, their eyes widening. A slew of curses flew from their mouths as they quickly grabbed their gear and ran for the door to the stairs.

"They collapsed a building, will hiding in the damn stairwell really do anything to protect us?" Yon asked as they ran down the stairs.

"No it won't, which is why we aren't staying in the building! Once we hit ground level we're getting out of here!" Finn shouted.

Yon realized Finn had a good point. The aliens were far more likely to target buildings than empty streets so the safest place was outside. Even if hiding in a building protected you from the initial blast from the shot you would still be screwed if the structure collapsed. Suddenly, there was a loud boom and Finn stumbled and slammed into the wall as the whole building shook.

Yon managed to keep his balance and helped Finn to his feet. "Feels like they hit one real close. Come on, we gotta move."

The two men attempted to resume their run down the stairs when they heard several explosions in rapid succession and the tremors started again.

"I guess the first two shots was just the aliens testing out their targeting system, now that they've got a lock I don't think we're going any farther!" Finn managed to shout over the noise.

"I'm blaming you if we die here Finn!"

"Oh screw you, it was a good place for killing dinosaurs!"

**Outskirts of New Beijing, Shanxi. March 23, 2157 AD**

Having spent the majority of his life in the mountainous forests back on Earth, Michael was quite adept at moving through the wilderness on Shanxi and so had generally been taking point for the three man group. On the one hand, Michael was the most experienced and so should be leading, but on the other hand Fred felt bad for relying on Michael so much. Michael plotted their course through the woods, set up camp each night, brought back wild goats he had caught, started a cooking fire and kept it small enough to avoid attracting attention, all while getting the least amount of sleep of the three men. Fred just didn't feel like he or Kevin were pulling their weight. This weighed on Fred's mind as he and Kevin exited the wooded area they had been traversing and stood beside Michael. They were at the edge of a suburban neighborhood, currently standing in someone's backyard.

"Could we please raid one of the houses for supplies?" Kevin asked, almost whining. "Or should we knock first to see if anyone is home? I want something else to eat, I'm sick and tired of goat."

"I've been watching the windows on the houses since I got here," Michael responded, his voice just above a whisper. "I haven't seen any movement except in the house directly in front of us. Whoever is in there has been going room to room so I doubt it's the original inhabitants."

"Friend or foe?" Kevin asked.

"They're human, doesn't necessarily mean they're friendly," Michael warned.

Kevin's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "Why wouldn't they be friendly? The entire planet is under attack, we have to stick together if we want to survive."

"Humanity isn't exactly winning the fight based on what I heard on the radio before we left the Observatory. It's been a week, things have probably gotten worse. I imagine those guys are doing the same thing you suggested, scavenging for supplies."

"That didn't answer my question, Fred."

Michael cut in, "They might not want to share what they find. They might even want what supplies we have." He then added as an afterthought, "Duh."

Fred looked back and forth between the two men. "Well, we aren't going to figure out if they're friendly by just standing here. Let's go say hello."

As they approached the backdoor Fred noticed a rather disgusting smell emulated from the house, in part due to the fact that the door was already partially open. "I know that smell," he said as he stopped at the door.

"As do I," Michael said. "That's the smell of death."

"Quit being so melodramatic," Kevin chastised. "What's the smell?"

"Michael wasn't being melodramatic, that's the smell of a dead body."

"What?!" Kevin yelped and immediately reached for his gun. "So the guy inside really will kill anyone to get their supplies?"

"Actually, they were dead when I got here."

Kevin, Michael, and Fred all looked straight up for the source of the new voice. A light skinned man with a shaved head was leaning out of the second story window, looking down at them.

"And just how do we know you're telling the truth?" Kevin asked. Fred was just glad Kevin wasn't pointing his gun at the man, he appeared friendly, they didn't need an unnecessary shootout.

"Come inside and look at the bodies. I haven't been here long but they've already got an impressive array of bugs eating them. Look, just come inside, less chance of getting seen by the dinosaurs," the man said as he disappeared back inside.

"Kevin, relax. He's probably telling the truth. Michael, I can tell by the look on your face that you're unhappy, what's up?"

"That guy was Systems Alliance military, we can't trust him."

Fred sighed. "The planet is under attack by aliens, don't you think that maybe, _just maybe_, that this isn't part of some big conspiracy by the government to take over your life?"

"Governments always use tragedy to take away freedoms in the name of security, whether or not they planned the tragedy. Germany did it after the Reichstag Fire, America did it in response to September 11th, mark my words, the Systems Alliance will figure out a way to do it when this is all over."

"You know, he's not exactly wrong based off the sources he's citing," Kevin pointed out.

"I'm not arguing this right now. Come on, let's go meet a puppet of the State," Fred drawled, his voice thick with sarcasm.

The three men entered the house into the dining room/kitchen. There was a door to the left which was barely still attached to the wall. As Fred walked through it he discovered the living room, as well as the source of the stench. There were three corpses in the room, a man was laying next to the front door while a women and teenage girl were leaning against the wall next to where Fred stood. Judging by the splatter marks, whoever had done this came in through the front door, shot the man and then shot the two women when they tried to flee out the back. The intruders then broke down the door as they searched the property for anyone else, Fred imagined the upstairs of the house was probably similarly damaged.

Fred could hear Kevin's gasp of surprise and Michael's low cursing as the two men followed him into the living room.

"Believe me now?"

The three men turned and saw the Systems Alliance man descending the staircase. Fred noticed that while the man was wearing military gear, it clearly wasn't designed with long, drawn out firefights in mind. It looked more like a military uniform that had had metal plates sewn into the clothing than actual armor.

"Yes," Fred quickly answered before Michael could say anything. "Yes, we do. Though if you didn't kill them, who did?"

The expression on the man's face changed quite dramatically, quickly going from apathetic to full anger in seconds. "The damned dinosaurs did it! Who else would go house-to-house killing every man, woman, and child they find?"

"Whoa whoa, calm down," Kevin said, placatingly. "We're sorry for asking. It's just that we've been walking through the wilderness for the past week, we aren't up on the current news."

The man visibly calmed down. "No, it's my fault. I'm sorry. We have enough problems right now without us fighting among ourselves."

"The aliens have intentionally been killing civilians?" Michael asked gruffly.

"Yea, they've been wiping out entire neighborhoods gestapo style, and they're damn good at it. We would send troops to intercept their death squads but half the time we don't know they've moved into a given area until we stumble upon the bodies."

"Damn. . .the old saying in true, war really is hell," Kevin said sadly.

The soldier snorted. "War isn't hell, in hell innocence is spared."

The four men stood there in forlorn silence for a moment.

"Why not evacuate everyone?" Kevin suggested, breaking the silence.

"To where? There are a number of suburbs surrounding New Beijing, if we move the people into the city that just brings them into the war zone and there are already too many people there anyway. If we move them out into the country then it's next to impossible to keep them supplied. Not to mention that there's no guarantee that they would listen to us, half of them didn't even bunker down when General Williams warned about the aliens, I can't imagine how hard it would be to get them to abandon their homes."

"It would be hard to get them to abandon their homes?" Michael asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Why would a people that have been persecuted by their own government and forced to flee to another planet in an entirely different solar system and are only able to survive in spite of, not because of, a corrupt military that is keeping a careful eye on everything they do at the behest of the very government they fled from not want to leave their homes when said military tells them to?"

"Bit of a mouthful there Michael," Kevin said nervously.

Fred's eyes darted back and forth between Michael and the military man, who had now crossed his arms over his chest and was glaring at Michael. This conversation was not going in the direction Fred had wanted it to go. Fred had hoped they would be able to talk their way into getting resupplied at this guy's base of operations, catch up on the state of the invasion, and then move on to get to Michael's bunker at the other side of New Beijing. Now, not only was the conversation quickly turning hostile but now they didn't know what the safest way to get across the city would be. The man had confirmed that there was heavy fighting in the city so that was clearly dangerous, but if the aliens had death squads wandering the outskirts of the city it might be even more dangerous to get caught out there without military assistance.

"Seeing as how the 'corrupt' military is fighting and dying to protect civvie, and by extension your, lives how about you show a little respect? After all, it's not like I owe you anything. I could walk out the door and leave you here to your own devices, see how well a group of woodsmen do on a battlefield."

"Whoa, let's not do anything hasty here," Fred quickly interjected. "We want to come with you, if you'll let us. Michael's just a little testy after a week in the woods and is a little skeptical of authority, that's all."

"Mike's a much more pleasant guy once you get to know him. Isn't that right Michael?" Kevin asked as he sharply elbowed Michael in the ribs.

"I'm a regular bucket of sunshine," Michael deadpanned.

The military man let out a long breath and his posture went from tense to slumped. "That's good enough for me. . .which is depressing when I think about it. Says a lot about the situation if I hear someone saying that crap about the Alliance and I don't bust their teeth in. Whatever. I'm Howard by the way."

"Kevin, Michael, Fred," Fred said, pointing at each person in turn. "So what are you doing in here? Looking for survivors?"

"Partially, truth be told we've since given up on hoping to find anyone alive after the dinosaurs move through a neighborhood. That way we aren't disappointed when we only find corpses. The real reason I'm here is to scavenge."

"Scavenge for what?" Kevin asked.

Howard shrugged. "Whatever I can get. Fresh food that doesn't come out of a can is the most requested item but we need everything from socks to toilet paper."

The expression on Kevin's face was a mixture of disgust and curiosity. "I can understand needing toilet paper because. . .well we all know why, but why do you need socks?"

"Every soldier knows the importance of a good pair of socks," Howard lectured. "If you have to ask why then consider yourself lucky for not ever having seen a case of trench foot."

"Trench foot?"

"It's ugly, sufficient to say a pair of dry socks are worth more than a phaser to some soldiers."

"Right, uh well. . .let's help you look."

**Jia Siang, Shanxi. March 23, 2157 AD**

"Are we dead?"

"Shouldn't you being able to ask that question tell you the answer?"

"Don't be getting philosophical on me."

Finn snorted. "Just get up already. We need to check out the damage, see what's still standing and what isn't."

Finn hoisted the TR-116 and began walking down the stairwell, he heard Yon scrambling to grab his stuff and follow. When the two men reached ground level they cautiously opened the door leading outside and peeked their heads out. What they saw made Finn immediately offer a quick prayer to God in thanks.

"It's all gone," Yon stated in shock.

While the side of the street the two snipers were on was relatively undamaged (from the orbital bombardment anyway) everything on the other side was rubble. Everything on the next block over was also smashed to bits, as well as the block past that.

"Finn, I'm suddenly very thankful we were sniping from so far away, they destroyed like three square blocks."

"You really think that directed at us?" Finn didn't know whether to be honored or horrified at that prospect.

"I would guess so, we were the only ones around here engaging the aliens before they decided to rain hell down."

Realization dawned on Finn. "That would explain why the last dinosaur didn't seem that nervous as I picked off his squad. He wasn't expecting to make it out alive, he called down that suicide strike."

"He wanted to take us out with him, huh?" Yon shook his head in disbelief. "He did all that and we're still here." Yon grinned. "Oh well, point for us."

"Come on Yon, we need to get out of here before any dinosaurs show up."

"But. . ." Yon paused, his brow creased in worry. "Don't you think we should look for survivors? People might still be alive under some of those buildings."

"It pains me to say this but, as Jingles would point out, that's not our job. Our job is to kill dinosaurs and move before we're discovered and considering what just happened, I'd say we failed the second part."

**New Beijing, Shanxi. March 23, 2157 AD**

"This is an eldritch abomination of parts I've somehow managed to get to work together despite them having never been designed for the purposes I'm using them for. This thing makes a rube goldberg contraption look simple."

Michael gave the ten foot combat walker a once-over appraisal. "It looks like you grabbed a bunch of crap from a junkyard, threw it all in a giant blender and hit frappe."

The mechanic, a short, overweight man, huffed indignantly. "True, but the more important thing is that it works."

"You've used it against the aliens?" Michael asked in surprise.

"Yep," the mechanic said proudly. "I even took out a tank with it."

"Wait, you piloted this thing? _You__?_"

"I may not be the picturesque image of a soldier but my home, my community, needs defending. I have to step up," the man said firmly.

"Well. . .yea, but still. . .you?"

The mechanic sighed in exasperation. "It's not like I'm out there trying to jump up and pluck their planes from the sky, I'm there to support the guys that know what they're doing. It's like Howard told me: there are many old pilots and many bold pilots but there are very few old, bold pilots. He then asked which one I wanted to be."

Michael nodded in agreement. "Good advice."

"I certainly thought so."

"Right, well I will leave you to your work," Michael said as he walked off.

The Systems Alliance soldier, Howard, had lead Michael, Kevin, and Fred to his 'base camp' although using that term was being awfully generous. It was a three bay auto-body shop. Seventeen soldiers were holed up here, in addition to the mechanic, the mechanic's wife, his four employees, plus their wives.

Michael had been curious when he first spotted the walker in the corner, it didn't look like any of the ones he knew the System Alliance used. The fact that the mechanic had built the whole thing, basically from scratch, and that it worked well enough to be used in combat, was impressive. Made Michael wonder useful it actually was in a battle. The mechanic said he didn't do much so maybe it was only good for acting as a distraction. Then again, Michael had destroyed one of the aliens' shuttles with nothing but a cannon he had attached to his truck so maybe there was something to be said for improvisation.

Michael walked over to where Kevin and Fred were sitting. They appeared to be discussing whether they should stick around or keep moving.

"I'm not saying we try to get to Michael's by ourselves," Fred argued. "Howard mentioned how they were in contact with other outposts, we can hop from safe house to safe house to get through the city."

"Which means that once we make it to Michael's we will be on our own, the whole reason you wanted to leave to Observatory was because you were worried they aliens would attack us when we were alone," Kevin shot back. "Now we're surrounded by trained soldiers and you want to leave?"

"I'm actually curious as to your response Fred," Michael said as he sat down. "I want to get to my house because it's MY house. What's your reasoning?"

Fred lowered his voice. "Guys, look around you. With us here, there are thirty people living in this building. Auto-body shops are not built with ergonomics or living conditions in mind. I'm surprised the people here are as healthy as they are." Fred bent down to floor and pointed at some engine sludge. "You see that? My head will be next to that while I sleep tonight. What if I roll over and get it on my face?" He straightened back up in his seat. "If one of us catches something and gets sick we are screwed, that's why I want to get out of here."

Kevin glanced around at the shop, taking in the dust and the filth. "You may have a point."

"Ideally, I want to be close enough to the city so that we can go into it if we need to, join up with the army or something. Keep our options open basically. If we stay here though, we don't have options, we do whatever they tell us because they're in charge," Fred explained.

**New Beijing, Shanxi. March 23, 2157 AD**

"Do you really think you should be drinking so much Chang? I'm not opposed to getting drunk under normal circumstances but we are in the middle of a warzone."

"AAAHHH shut up Gimpy."

Howard sighed. While he was eternally grateful for the Lion's Squad for saving his life he found them to be rather unprofessional. His attempts to correct their behavior had been rather unsuccessful. Of course, Howard might have had more luck if the man in charge of the squad made any attempts at enforcing discipline. Howard looked over at said Service Chief, one Zaeed Massani, who was smoking a cigar and was fiddling with something on his wrist computer who finally looked up when he noticed Howard staring.

"Let him be Howard," Zaeed grunted before returning his gaze to his computer.

"But he's drunk enough to drown a fish. He's-" Howard's diatratripe was interrupted by the sound of Chang collapsing face forward onto the floor. "Whelp he's passed out now. What would we do if the dinosaurs showed up right now?

"We'd run and Chang would make for a handy distraction, that's what. Maybe we'd get lucky and one of them would trip over him in their haste to get to us."

"Assuming they didn't kill him, he'd still be captured! Why don't any of your men seem to realize the severity of what they do?"

Zaeed growled and stood up from his chair. He walked over to Howard and suddenly Howard realized just how tall Zaeed was as the man glared down at him.

"Howard, you want to insult us because we're messy, because we lack discipline, because we like to blow crap up, whatever, that's fine because it's all true." Howard found himself staring down the end of a very angry finger pointed at his face. "But don't you DARE say we don't understand how guddamn serious things are. Need I remind you, the only reason we weren't able to rescue more of your platoon was because we had to stop and defend a freakin' HOSPITAL, which we were ultimately unsuccessful in doing I might add! So if after everything my men have seen and done, if they need something to get them through the night, be it prayer, tranquilizers, or a guddamn bottle of Jack Daniels, they will get it and you will keep your mouth shut or you will wish we had left you to the dinosaurs! Have I made myself clear?!"

"Yes yes, sorry," Howard said, trying to back out of the awkward situation.

"Guddamn rookie," Howard heard Zaeed mutter before the Service Chief sat back down and began fiddling with his computer again. Howard decided he should probably find someone else to talk to.

Howard walked up to Jyrki and James, who were going through all the supplies that Howard had recovered on his scavenger hunt through the neighborhood where he had met Kevin, Michael, and Fred. Howard would never admit it out loud, but he loved listening to Jyrki talk. The man had baritone voice that you could feel in your bones whenever he spoke. He should have become a singer not a soldier.

"You guys find what it was you wanted?" Howard asked the duo.

"Taste this," Jyrki said as he held up a jar to Howard.

Howard stuck his finger in the food and brought a bit up to his lips. "Not bad," he said after a moment's contemplation.

Jyrki looked at Howard like he was crazy. "That stuff expired in 2098! It predates the founding of Chiron!"

"Makes me wonder why anyone bothered bring it Shanxi," James muttered.

"OK, that is a long time ago," Howard said reluctantly. He just got yelled at by Zaeed, Howard really didn't want to deal with these guys yelling at him because of the food he brought. "What's the problem though? It still tastes like creamed corn."

"It's deviled ham!" Jyrki exclaimed.

"Well that's a problem," Howard admitted.

"Relax," James said, grinning. "It's not like we expect you to check the expiration dates on sealed food you bring us. Jyrki is just upset because I said it still tasted fine and he put his last carton of cigarettes on the line saying no one else would be able to stomach it."

"You don't even smoke," grumbled Jyrki. "Why do you torment me so, James? You know how I get without my cigarettes."

James laughed. "Whenever life's difficulties start getting to you, just remember that diamonds can only be made under extreme pressure."

Jyrki just stared at James.

Howard arched an eyebrow. "I'm with Jyrki on this one, what the hell was that James?"

James shrugged. "I read it in a fortune cookie, seemed appropriate for the situation."

"You are a strange man, James, a strange man."

Jyrki shook himself out of his daze. "Right. . .well once we get all this stuff sorted I gotta give the three squads holed up at Planet X a ring, they had to leave all their food behind when they abandoned the apartment complex they had been staying in."

"We taking the food to them or they gonna stop by and grab it?" James asked.

"Don't know yet, will depend on who's got people available when I make the call."

James sighed. "You know, I really feel like we should put more effort into planning and working together than we do. Why isn't General Williams coordinating retaliation strikes or something?"

"Insufficient data," Howard answered.

"Huh?"

"This isn't a video game or a Jason Bourne movie, he can't micromanage our movement and tell us when to attack and when to take cover because he doesn't know what the best action to take in a given situation would be. He may have an overall plan but for the day-to-day stuff he has to have faith in our ability to analyze a situation and make the best decision."

"Alright," James responded. "Then why don't we at least coordinate with the nearby troops more than we currently do?"

"I can answer that one," Jyrki interjected. "To quote the Chief, 'If even we don't know what we are doing, the guddam dinosaurs certainly can't anticipate our future actions.'"

"That's. . .one way to look at it. . .I guess."

"I would advise against going and asking him about it right now if I were you James," Howard said. "I kinda pissed him off when I questioned how he ran things, he doesn't need you doing more of the same."

James waved his hand dismissively. "Yea, but the Chief is always pissed, that's nothing new."


	21. Chapter 21: A Different Perspective II

**Author's Note: **_I know I said I was going to try to update more often and that it has been over a year but real life got in the way. I won't bore you with the details because you aren't here to read about my problems, you're here to read about the Borg, the Systems Alliance, and the Turians. I make no promises on when the next chapters will be done._

**A Different Perspective II**

**Jia Siang, Shanxi. March 24, 2157 AD**

Lucius was a good turian who did his duty and as a tank gunner his duty was to ride in the heavily armored and heavily shielded vehicle and shoot at the aliens. Neither the aliens laser guns nor their scientifically impossible snipers could penetrate to the tank's interior, and that made Lucius feel just a little ashamed. Fellow turians were out there dying simply because someone, somewhere had decided those people were better suited for infantry than an armored vehicle. Who's the turian that gets to decide those things anyhow? How high up the chain of command do you have to be to make such an important decision? To decide, not only someone's military career but also the likelihood of them getting killed in combat. Lucius was glad he was a tank gunner, he wouldn't want that responsibility which was probably why he had been assigned this position in the first place. So the system worked, if you didn't like it you didn't have to stay in the military after the mandatory service was up. Lucius still hadn't made a decision on whether he was gonna re-enlist or not. He liked the comfort of routine that military life brought and he was good at his job but if he screwed up people depending on him could die. That was a lot to deal with. He glanced over at his crewmates; Ennius was driving and Domitia was on sensors.

"Anything on sensors Domitia?" Ennius asked, sounding rather bored.

"No, but are you really surprised by that?" Domitia asked in response. "You've seen the weapons these aliens use. Just because I can't pick up any military-grade eezo signatures doesn't mean they aren't nearby."

"I know. I was just hoping the spirits would decide to grant us a bit of luck today."

Lucius sighed, mentally preparing himself for the argument he knew was about to come. Sure enough, Domitia did not disappoint: "You're too superstitious, forget the spirits. We can make our own luck."

"Its comments like that that keep the spirits from helping us out," Ennius shot back.

"All three of us are still alive and the tank is working perfectly despite several firefights, we seem to be doing fine without any made-up helpers assisting us."

Lucius tuned out his compatriots bickering and spun the turret around to look behind the tank. Didn't look like there was anyth-wait, that's an alien! And it's holding the hand of a smaller alien as the two ran across the street to a building. Lucius swallowed uncomfortably. Apparently none of the accompanying infantry around the tank had noticed the mad dash so it was up to him to report it, those aliens were in a combat zone and therefore were potential enemies that had to be neutralized. But. . .that was clearly a parent with a child. They weren't a threat to anyone. . .were they? Assuming these aliens grew at the same rate as turians the kid couldn't have been more than six years old, and what kind of parents would bring their six year old to a gunfight? They must have been fleeing all the fighting. Lucius spun the gun back around to the front of the tank. He was a good turian, he would do his duty for the Hierarchy, but he wouldn't harm innocent people just trying to survive.

**Cruiser **_**Pride of Digeris**_**, Shanxi Orbit. March 24, 2157 AD**

"So then Aluna tells me that among asari those kinds of jokes aren't told when meeting your bondmate's family."

"No kidding?"

"Seriously! You'd have thought I killed somebody the way her mother glared at me."

"That's what you get for marrying an asari, should have found a nice turian girl."

"Speaking of turian girls, how much longer till you get that thing put back into her brain correctly?"

"I dunno Quitus, I've never seen this sort of device before so there is a fair amount guesswork as to what I'm doing."

Doctor Remus and his assistant had been locked in the med-bay for the past three hours, engaged in delicate brain surgery on a young woman that had a malfunctioning piece of tech in her head. Remus had never seen anything like it before but that was hardly surprising; the galaxy was a big place, medical technology was making all sorts of advances and it could be several years before a new discovery made its way through the whole medical community. Apparently the device helped the woman sort her memories because when Remus had chatted with her prior to the surgery she couldn't keep anything straight, didn't even seem to remember where she was. Luckily, the device hadn't actually been damaged (at least it didn't look damaged), it had merely been jarred loose so Remus and Quitus were now slowly and carefully putting it back into the woman's brain.

"So do you think she's good looking?" Quitus asked after several moments.

"Who?" Remus asked in puzzlement.

"Aeliana," Quitus said while gesturing at the woman on the table.

"I'm up to my wrists in her skull and you're asking if I find her waist sexual arousing?"

"Why you gotta make it sound so clinical?"

"I'm a doctor," Remus said indignantly. "I don't get involved with my patients. And you're married, stop checking her out."

"Hey, I can shop as much as I want so long as I don't buy anything."

**Cruiser **_**Pride of Digeris**_**, Shanxi Orbit. March 25, 2157 AD**

Remus heard a sound halfway between a groan and a mumble from behind him. Guess that meant one of his patients was awake. The doctor shut down his omni-tool (but only after making sure to save his game, didn't want to lose all the progress he had made on Tupari Crush) and got up to see who it was. As he walked past several beds of sleeping soldiers Remus realized it was the young lady he had performed brain surgery on that had awoken. She had been out for almost a full day.

"How are your feeling. . ." Remus had to lean over to check the name written down, "Aeliana. Any aches or pains?"

Aeliana sat straight up and turned her head to look at Remus. "This body is functioning correctly. It merely took longer than we expected to learn the physiology of it."

Remus wasn't sure what was weirder, that she referred to herself as 'we', that she had to learn her body's physiology, or that she had absolutely no emotion in her voice when she spoke. That meant he made a mistake somewhere during the operation.

"Whatever you say Aeliana," Remus said, instantly going into doctor-mode. He hardened his voice to sound authoritative. "Seeing as I did just perform brain surgery on you, I still need to run some tests to make sure I everything is working correctly, regardless of how you think you're doing."

Aeliana stared at Remus with a dead look on her face. This gave Remus a chance to scrutinize her a bit more closely. One of her eyes was cybernetic. . .Remus didn't remember that being mentioned in her medical history file. Actually, she also had a couple cybernetic implants on her hands and Remus was positive that they weren't in her file. Come to think of it, he didn't remember noticing any of them during the operation, that seemed like the sort of thing that he or Quitus (especially Quitus) would notice.

Aeliana finally spoke. "You operated on this drone?"

Something was seriously wrong with this woman but Remus had no idea what. Had the implant been damaged? Had Remus put it back wrong? Had he nicked something during the operation?

"Yes. I, along with my assistant Quitus, tried to fix your implant because it was malfunctioning and messing with your memories. I thought I put it back correctly but judging from your behavior I would say I made a mistake."

"No," Aeliana said firmly. "Everything is working, you did your job correctly Doctor. It was our fault, our hypothesis on how to assimilate your species was somewhat faulty."

"Assimilate? What are you talking about?"

"You will soon find out, your knowledge will benefit the Collective," Aeliana said before reaching up and grabbing Remus by the throat.

Remus tried to push away from the woman but she was surprisingly strong and her grip was so firm that he couldn't get the breath needed to shout for help. Remus felt a prick in his neck and she released her hold on him. Remus stumbled backwards and immediately got into a fighting stance, preparing to fend off her next attack should she attempt anything. Instead, Aeliana simply sat on her bed, staring at him.

Remus slowly relaxed his stance, watching Aeliana to see what she would do. She didn't move from her spot on the bed. Not only did she not move, she didn't so much as twitch. Remus didn't even see her chest moving to indicate that she was breathing. The woman might as well have been a statue.

Making sure to keep Aeliana in his field of vision in case she did made any movements towards him or the other turians asleep in their beds, Remus carefully moved across the room to the med-bay's intercom. "Med-bay to security, I think I'm going to need assistance."

Remus didn't recognize the voice that came over the intercom, "You _think_ you need assistance Doctor?"

Remus sighed, he wanted to snap at the guy on the line but it was his own fault for phrasing it that way. "My patient attacked me, she's calmed down now but I don't know why so I need someone ready to subdue her if she becomes aggressive again."

"I'll send someone down, until he gets there make sure to keep some furniture between you and the patient in case she does decide to attack you again."

"Will do," Remus said as he click off the intercom. Aeliana continued to sit on the edge of her bed, not moving. "I still have several questions for you Aeliana but seeing as how you attacked me we will have to have the conversation from a distance."

Remus might as well have not said anything given Aeliana's reaction (or lack thereof).

"Why did you grab me only to release me almost right away?"

Nothing.

"What was the pinch I felt?"

No response.

"When did you get those cybernetics?"

Remus was beginning to get angry. How could this woman just ignore him? Yes, there was something wrong with her which may-or-may-not be his fault but she was clearly capable of conversing, she did it just before she attacked.

"Fine, sit there until security arrives," Remus huffed annoyingly. "I need to call Quitus and tell him to find an open spot for you in the surgery schedule."

Remus turned back to the intercom. Before he activated it, Remus couldn't help but wonder why he was feeling so agitated. This wasn't the first time he had dealt with an annoying patient, heck it wasn't even the first time a patient had attacked him. He probably just needed sleep. Stupid planetary invasion was wrecking havoc with his sleep schedule, constantly having to be on call in case a shuttle brought people on board with life threatening injuries. And the damn buzzing in the back of his head certainly wasn't helping things. Remus sighed, he was going to need some medication to get rid of this.

Deciding to call Quitus after this headache was dealt with, Remus went over to one of the medicine cabinets. He was going to need a painkiller but those always made him sleepy so he would also need a pick-me-up but the only stimulants currently in the med-bay were the emergency use kind and Remus did not need to be putting something that heavy duty into his body. He wanted to stay awake till the end of his shift, not till his heart exploded. He could go to the cafeteria and grab some Tupari but Remus didn't want to leave Aeliana without a medical professional present and he certainly couldn't leave her alone with a bunch of passed out soldiers. Remus really should have had Quitus refill the medication in the medbay before his shift ended but the boy had really wanted to call his wife and the storage bay was three floors down.

Then again, the headache wasn't that big of a deal. Once he was properly assimilated Remus wouldn't care about pain. He could tough it out until enough nanites had replicated in his body to make sufficient improvements to the physical limitations biology had placed upon him.

Remus walked over and activated the intercom, "Dr. Remus to Lieutenant Quitus Axius, your presence is requested in the med-bay." Remus switched off the intercom and made his way over to stand beside Aeliana. "Once Quitus and the security officer arrive we should assimilate the other patients in here and then we can make our way to engineering, we have to lock that out first so that the Captain can't scuttle the ship once trouble starts."

Aeliana finally spoke. "Your assimilation is progressing much quicker than this drone's did."

"Of course, the nanites learned what to do based on the changes I made to neural processor in your head. As I was saying: first we need to take over engineering, then I suggest we move to the armory. . ." Remus shook his head, trying to focus his thoughts. "Once we get there. . .we. . .take over the ship?" Remus was confused. "Why would we take over the ship? I was assigned to work on this ship, I don't need to take it over."

Remus glared at his patient, whatever she did to him was clearly influencing him somehow. Was she some kind of sleeper agent from a Terminus Systems warlord? What if the cybernetic he had operated on had been some new kind of batarian slave chip? Remus needed to call security and tell them what was going on, warn them to lock down the med-bay. Before he could move however, he felt Aeliana's hand grab his arm in her iron grip.

"This drone will not allow you to discuss the Collective's plan to take over this ship with any individuals."

"How did you know what I was going to do?" Remus asked fearfully as he struggled to get away from his patient without hurting her or himself.

"We are Borg, there are no secrets between drones."

**Dreadnought **_**Cyprian's Grace**_**, Shanxi Orbit. March 26, 2157 AD**

"How is this possible? Tell me exactly what happened on the _Pride of Digeris_ while I was asleep!" Admiral Marius demanded to his yeoman.

"Uh well. . .we aren't entirely sure what happened, sir. They stopped responded to hails just recently, that's why I came and woke you up."

"I know that," Marius said through gritted teeth. "Start at the beginning. You said that just after I went off duty you received a message from the _Digeris_ that they were experiencing problems with their drive core, what happened after that?"

"Right, right. They told us the drive core's power levels were fluctuating for unknown reasons so they were going to shut it down for a hard reset at the request of their chief engineer. Shortly after they did that a fight broke out in engineering but we don't know what caused it. What we do know is that it eventually encompassed the entire deck, that was when the _Digeris_'s captain radioed us to let us know the situation. He told us he was going to take security down to put a stop to the fighting and would file a complete report once it was resolved. We were contacted by the comms officer an hour later who said that the fighting had spread to all decks except the bridge which they had locked down. He said he didn't know why everyone was fighting. He mentioned something about cyborgs going nuts but didn't have anything concrete to tell us. Commander Atticus was considering sending a detachment of marines over to try and quell the fighting but since we didn't know enough about the situation he decided against it. The comms officer, his name is Cato by the way, kept the channel open and tried to provide us with as much information as possible. Eventually the fighting died down by he didn't know who had won so Cato and the remaining crew on the bridge kept themselves locked in. Some of the security cameras still worked so he told us about how some of the crew were tearing out and altering a lot of the tech on the ship. That was when the channel shut off and, like I said, they didn't respond to hails, so I came and woke you up."

"So we have no idea why the fighting started or why it spread to the whole ship?"

"Not at the moment, sir."

"Maybe some kind of biological weapon," Marius wondered aloud. "Something to trigger feelings of rage?"

"So when we take back the ship we should make sure the marines are suited up with full seal atmo gear?" Marius's yeoman asked as he began making notes on his datapad.

"At this point I'm not ruling anything out so yes. . .what was that thing about cyborgs?"

The yeoman checked his datapad before answering. "According to what Officer Cato said, a large number of the people fighting had noticeable cybernetic implants, he said he didn't think that many people on the ship had had cybernetics but he didn't have an explanation for it so he figured he just hadn't noticed it till then."

"Pull up the medical history for the entire crew when you get a chance. I don't see how it could be important but if he mentioned it we might as well look into it." Marius stood up from the chair he had been sitting in. He wanted to climb back into his bed and finish sleeping but one of his ships had gone dark because of some weird mutiny, Marius knew he needed to deal with this. "Go tell Atticus to prep a boarding party to take back the _Digeris_." Marius paused. "Tell him to make sure they have lethal and nonlethal ordinance."

"Right away sir, anything else?"

"Anything out of the ordinary to report planetside?"

"No sir, General Desolas reports that things are progressing about as expected."

"Very well, dismissed."

The yeoman snapped a quick salute before exiting Marius's quarters. Marius sighed. As worrisome as the situation on the _Digeri_s was, it was just one more thing in a long list of problems that came about from trying to pacify a hostile planet. The biggest issue the fleet was facing was the logistics of keeping everyone supplied. Most of the ships had been stocked under the assumption that they were going out to wipe out some pirates, they were not prepared for a prolonged engagement. The fleet had rapidly burnt through all their medical supplies and they were beginning to run low on food. Marius had already had to send ships back into Turian space to bring back supplies, he was going to have to do so again pretty soon.

Marius was also concerned that his scout ships still hadn't reported any kind of activity in any of the nearby systems. There had to be more of these aliens, this planet had far too advanced technology and didn't have nearly a high enough population to be the alien's home planet. There had to be more of them somewhere.

**New Beijing, Shanxi. March 26, 2157 AD**

"Alright, and with that you've all been assigned your buildings and the order to do them in. Any questions?" Vitus asked as he looked over his men.

No one responded.

"Move out and remember, keep it quiet when possible but not it's too great of a timesink. We have to sweep this entire area by sunrise."

A chorus of "yes sir" was the response.

Vitus and his men performed a vital, though oftentimes misunderstood by non-turians, duty for the Hierarchy. They were hastatim, more commonly known as execution squads. It was their job to pacify civilian militias. Under normal circumstances safe camps would have been set up outside of the cities for the civilians to go to if they didn't want to fight but since Command had no way of communicating with the aliens and the aliens didn't know about turian military doctrine that wasn't really an option in this situation. So rather than take out militias and escort the noncombatants to the safe camps the hastatim were being deployed to any area with significant civilian resistance with orders to wipe everyone out.

Vitus slowly move to his first building, his thermal reader showed two adults downstairs, one walking around and a large one sitting down. There were two more adults upstairs, apparently asleep. This would be easy, provided the kills were all silent. Vitus would prefer not using his gun, it had a suppressor on it so it would be hard to hear but that didn't mean it would be silent like in the holo-vids.

Vitus crept up to the building and prepared to activate the torch function on his omni-tool. Keeping an eye on the alien, he waited until it was on the far side of the building before burning through the lock which took all of two seconds to accomplish. Vitus crept inside and slowly shut the door behind him. He began stalking his way toward the first alien. It was walking a basic patrol loop through the downstairs so Vitus got into position behind some furniture and waited.

It didn't take long before the alien lazily passed back into the room, it glanced out the windows and that was when Vitus leapt up from his hiding spot. With experienced precision he grabbed the aliens head with his left hand, making sure to cover the mouth to prevent screaming, and pulled up to expose the throat. With his right hand he brought his talon knife across the alien's neck in one swift motion. Once the alien stopped struggling Vitus gently eased it down onto the floor and moved out of the room.

Vitus crept forward, slowly approaching the fat alien from behind. The alien was sitting down on a couch muttering to himself. Vitus got into position directly behind the alien. As he leaned forward, about to grab the aliens head for another quick kill Vitus realized his mistake. The alien wasn't fat, he simply had a child asleep in his lap which had distorted the heat signature. He wasn't muttering to himself, he was talking to the sleeping kid. Vitus mentally kicked himself for moving too quickly and almost making a mistake. He couldn't kill the man with his knife, the child's head was resting against his neck. The man's death flailing might wake the child and if the kid screamed that would wake the people upstairs. Vitus holstered his knife and silently withdrew his pistol. Granted, it wouldn't be as quiet but it would be easier to shoot both of them. Double checking to make sure the silencers was on correctly Vitus fired two quick shots. He didn't like killing children but he was a good turian that did his duty regardless of his feelings on the matter, he would do what was necessary for the Hierarchy to win this conflict.


End file.
